Forgotten Portrait
by Scarabimi
Summary: Ib, a 22 year old who aspires to become a lawyer, has recently been plunged into an unexplainable depression that has significant ties to the painter Guertena and his most famous painting, 'The Forgotten Portrait'. She decides to visit the exhibit and that's where everything goes wrong. DISCLAIMER: Rated T for a reason. Be prepared for some mild to intense gore.
1. Prologue

**Prologue:**

Ib stared into the painting; she re-read the caption, she didn't remember some of the longer words, but she knew. This was the painting. She sighed. Garry was still in the sketchbook. She had been forced to leave him behind...

Mary had burned; burned right out of her painting. Ib hadn't cried; Mary had hurt Garry.

Mary had paid.

Ib returned her focus to the painting on the wall. It was a rather large painting, almost filling the entire space before her. It seemed to beckon for her... she recognized the image on the canvas vaguely, as though it called to her from another life. _Garry. I can't leave... I can't leave HIM._ but she was transfixed. The swirling colors yelled at her, screamed. _Ib... Jump. Ib. Jump through. Jump. _They yelled. She took a few steps back, preparing for the leap. She heard the soft tap of shoes on the dark gallery floor.

"Ib!" It was Garry. "Sheesh! I told you I'd catch up, didn't I!" He smiled brightly. "Anyways Ib, I found the exit! It's just over here, come with me!"

The painting screamed. _IB RUN, JUMP IB JUMP, JUMP THROUGH!_

Ib listened.

She bounded through the air, soared.

"IB! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

But she was flying...


	2. Chapter 1

**Author Note:**

Please please please comment on my fanfic! Anything really, I take criticism as well as I can. Don't get TOO mean though (please ^.^). Oh, Also, I would like feedback as to whether or not the chapters seem long enough. I'm going to try and make them between 1,000 and 2,000 words, please tell me if they get too short or too long!

**Chapter 1:**

Ib lay on her bed at home, reading a book about nothing in particular. It was a cold, rainy day in central New York, the familiar gray overcast stared down at her, peeking in through her windows. She looked around the room, closing her book absentmindedly. She wasn't really in the mood to read, and hadn't been very enthousiastic about much lately. She didn't have a clue why. It had started about a week ago, when Ib had watched a program on TV about Guertena the world-famous painter. Something had shifted on her insides. Something that made her want to throw up. In the end she had, thrown up that is. With each hack, cough, and spit, she had felt a piece of herself disappear. _The Forgotten Portrait, one of Guertena's last works, though it is impossible to figure out exactly when it was started and completed due to extreme damage... _The TV had continued on. _The Forgotten Portrait..._ Ib had started having trouble eating soon after that. She was getting visibly thinner. She didn't understand why she was so upset, it had been fifteen years ago, when she was only eight years old. She remembered the day with a strange clarity...

_In the early afternoon, under a gray sky... Ib and her parents were on their way to an art gallery. "Did you remember everything Ib? Oh! Do you have your handkerchief? You know, the one you got for your birthday? Keep it safe in your pocket, okay? Don't lose it!"_

She had wandered around for a while, getting ahead of her parents like all children tended to do. She didn't remember any of the paintings, well... any except for one. _The Forgotten Portrait._ Even when she was little she had had a strange sort of adoration of the picture. The man depicted in it was tall, lean, with purple hair and a long dark coat. He looked so...sad. Desolate. Alone. _Forgotten._ Dozens of pictures of it were scattered around the room. In the past, she had been obsessed, drawing silly cartoon caricatures of her with the man from the painting, strolling hand in hand through a horrificly surreal other world. That had been when she was young. When she was stupid. Ib was now twenty-two years old, a sharp young woman preparing to go to law school. She picked up the book again, but closed it several seconds later. _What to do? _She stood, shakily. It was time to eat. She would force herself if she had to. Ib wasn't the kind of girl to die of anorexia, or to even become anorexic. She walked downstairs clumsily. She lived alone now, she had for a while now; she was in that awkward phase between high school and college, working two jobs to earn the money she needed to get into Harvard. Even with her scholarship, the tuition was wicked expensive. She opened the fridge, leaning against the open door. _Oh, that's right. I must've forgotten to pick up the groceries this morning..._ She closed the door, with a heavy sigh. _I don't really feel like going out, but I have to. I haven't eaten in too long. This isn't healthy. _She clamored over to the coat rack, donning a black jacket over her blouse and jeans. _Let's get this over with. _She thought as she stepped out into the drizzle, car keys in hand.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Garry opened his eyes slowly, immediately noticing the sharp, stinging pain that seemed to be ripping into his left hand. He unclenched his fist, looking down at the object in his fingers. _My... my rose? _It was soft and velvety, the blue petals healthy and glowing. He blinked twice. _Ib. _Where was she? Hadn't he told her he would catch up to her?! He tried to stand, but failed miserably. _Still weak, eh? _He looked the corridor up and down. It was dark, not dark enough to disable his vision, but enough to make him squint. He recognized the faint smell of crayons and the haunting music that seemed to play in every hall in the galleries, like a personal soundtrack. _The Sketchbook... I wonder where Ib has run off to now. How long was I asleep? _He tried to move again, his aching muscles immediately screamed in protest. He shivered slightly, and snuggled backwards against his soft coat. _I'm in no condition to leave, I can barely even shift my arms around. _He reached into his pocket, partly testing his claim, and partially just for the comfort of having his lighter back in his palm, a bit of light to push back the darkness never hurt; did it? His fingers groped the cloth of his pocket, searching. "What the- where is it?" But there was nothing there, nothing but the soft velvety material. He rested his head back against the wall. _Now the winning question of the night. Who took it? Mary, or Ib? _Garry pondered the answer to the question restlessly. Eventually his body forced his mind into submission, willing it to shut down. Garry sighed as he once again fell into the soft arms of sleep.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

If Garry had been awake, he would have heard it. Glass, crunching, smashing, ripping. The Lady in Red crawled off of the wall, sprawling out across the floor in exhaustion. Headless mannequins were wandering through the hallways, looking for any signs of things to play with. Dolls talked to each other about nothing in particular, playing their games as usual. The Juggling Man talked to Worry as he practiced his routine. mannequin heads rolled across the floor, pushed by the dark hands that reached out from the walls. Statues looked at each other with an eerie sort of importance, while paintbrushes swirled across canvases, led by invisible hands. The Ladies were having a gathering, everyone but Red was there, 'standing' in front of a picture frame. It wasn't exactly burnt, it was more... torn, cut, wounded. They would soon get to work.

The gallery was waking up.

They were expecting company soon, after all.


	3. Chapter 2

**Author Note:**

I'm going to try to update this as often as possible ^.^ Comments are ALWAYS welcome, especially about the length! (I keep worrying that it's too short, my other fanfic's chapters are 2,000-3,000 words haha)

**Chapter 2:**

Ib huddled against the cold, slamming the door of her small black slugbug behind her. They had underground parking at the Whole Foods she had pulled up at, but the cold penetrated the thick concrete with ease. She stepped into the elevator, nodding at the older woman who stood on the other side. She regarded Ib with a sort of distaste, especially dwelling on the thinness of her stomach. Ib ignored it. The elevator dinged, and they both stepped out into the large store on the other side. Ib headed for the Deli, looking to get something that would fill her up, without making her stomach too uncomfortable. The walk was short, and the line wasn't long. Ib headed for the checkout with her wallet in one hand and her food in the other.

_Guertena, an artist of extreme and not completely known talents. He is well-known for his exceptional use of color and balance of shapes. Come see Guertena at the Moma, a special exhibition of extremists in the past!_

Ib's stomach dropped. The poster was extremely straight forward, all angles and contrasting colors; designed to grab the attention for a short amount of time, but even the word 'Guertena' was enough. She swallowed. _What is it with me and this painter guy?_ She shook her head.

"Madam? Excuse me?" The cashier murmured politely.

"Oh s-sorry about that," Ib handed her the sandwich and paid quickly, walking briskly to the elevator and stepping inside as soon as the bell dinged. The ride up was solitary, and not particularly interesting in any sense. She was soon back in the garage, walking towards her car.

_Come see Guertena at the Moma, a special exhibition of extremists in the past! _The posters were everywhere. Ib was surprised she hadn't heard about it on TV; although, ever since the inexplicable depression, she hadn't really been in the mood to watch the news.

_The Moma eh? That's not too far from here..._ She closed the door behind her, and pushed the keys into the ignition, a new destination in mind.

She was going to get to the bottom of this. Tonight.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Garry had woken up again. He already wished he hadn't. It wasn't as bad this time, he had much more mobility throughout his body, and didn't have too much trouble shifting to a standing position. He stumbled slightly, hearing the pop of his joints; stiff, as though they hadn't been used in a very long time. _How long did I sleep? I wonder... _But he didn't have time for wondering. He had to find her. Ib. He stretched his arms as he walked down the dim hallway. The exit at the other side of the hallway led into an open room. He remembered Ib and himself heading in that direction, just before he had passed out. He avoided standing too close to the walls, knowing all to well about the monsters that liked to grab at people through the thick sheet rock. He wondered what time it was. He looked around at the limited light and frowned slightly. He hadn't checked the time since he had been back in the gallery, examining his favorite painting, "The Hanged Man."

He remembered that day vaguely, it had been overcast, and a soft drizzle had cut through the sky, spilling on to the sidewalk like heavenly tears. Garry had been at the museum to find inspiration, being a fairly descent painter himself. He remembered noticing a flyer by the front desk, for Guertena, the exhibit the museum had been showing at the time. Garry knew ALL about Guertena, he ate, slept, and breathed Guertena. He had always admired the surreal way the colors seemed to move on the canvas where Guertena had touched it; similar to Van Gough, but at a whole new level. The Hanged Man had always been a particularly interesting piece to Garry, he wasn't exactly sure why; he enjoyed the color scheme, and the effect the painting had on its viewers emotionally, but there was more, some reason that he could never really figure out. He remembered passing a young girl on his way to the upper floor on that day, a girl with brightly sparkling red eyes like rubies that made him look twice. She had looked about ten, with chocolate-brown hair, and a short, childish stature. Garry hadn't really paid her much attention...

He shook his head. Now was not the time to be daydreaming about the past. He had to find her. Ib was stuck in the gallery. Alone with... her. Mary. She had seemed so human when they had first met. Garry was still having trouble accepting the fact that she was actually a painting, an invented puppet for Guertena's strings. He had gone really into the detail on this one, even giving her a fake rose to allow her to fit in better. He was pulled back to reality by his own heartbeat, his breathing was shallow with the effort of walking, he was still in extremely bad condition. He leaned against the wall, taking in the room he had entered into. It was definitely the sketchbook. The smell of crayons was overpowering, and the haunting music trilled happily in the background. It was empty, Garry could see stairs leading to another, higher level of the house to his left, and a door to the outside on the right. He shifted, as though to take a step forwards, but froze where he stood, in fear. He had heard something. Something that sounded disturbingly like a door being opened.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

The Lady in Red nodded to the mannequin that had opened the door for her, and crawled through the doorway to the house unhappily. She didn't really enjoy getting around like this, it was a lot of work. She was breathing heavily now, having made the long journey from the front gallery to this place. She had never been here, but the other Ladies and Dolls talked about it a lot. This was Mary's place, where she spent all her time. Red didn't even take the time to look around the small room, instead choosing to continue on her way across the colorful flooring with forced alacrity; her painting clanked heavily behind her. Stairs were difficult for paintings like herself, and doors were impossible. It was always embarrassing calling on a mannequin to help you out, but it was just one of the things the Ladies had to endure. She hefted herself onto the first step, and began the challenging journey up. _For Mary._

_And our guests. _She added as an afterthought.


	4. Chapter 3

**Author Note:**

AGH I'm sorry I couldn't write for so long (2 days IS a long time for me) please keep reviewing, I try to take criticism the best I can, and really appreciate viewer advice! (I wrote almost about 1.5 times the length of the other chapters because I haven't written in a while) Keep reading please .

Thanks! Love chu all~

**Chapter 3:**

Ib pulled up to the Gallery. She parked carelessly, finding the first available spot. It was on her way to the entrance that she first noticed she was shaking. She had eaten her sandwich on the way here, and was already beginning to regret it. The front lobby was cluttered with dozens of tourists and art enthusiasts, she pushed past them, standing in front of the long desk and glancing at the woman behind it. "Guertena. Nothing else, just the show." The woman nodded, extending a hand for Ib's payment. Seconds later, Ib stood before the large doors, her trembling had visibly increased. _What is there to be scared of? It's an ART Gallery. Not a horror movie. _Ib had always had terrible experiences with horror movies. A memory drifted back to her, one from a couple of years ago.

_"What's this movie called again?"_

_"Dolly and her friends," her friend Josie from high school had commented._

_"Dolly?"_

_"It's the sequel to that popular gore movie. I've heard it's really good. You like horror right? I never really thought to ask..."_

_"Oh yeah, I'm good with it."_

Ib had not been 'good with it'. Halfway through the movie she was shaking, having a full on panic attack in the middle of the theater. Josie had been extremely frightened by her friends behavior, and to this day had never asked her to watch another movie.

A woman behind her coughed loudly; Ib shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Today had been a bad day for dreaming. She pressed forwards, through the thick crowd. _Guertena. _The name echoed hollowly in her mind, it was everywhere. Every wall contained the word at least 15 times. Ib felt her breathing get shallower, as her heart rate increased. The gallery was nothing but ordinary. It reminded her of every other museum in New York; white, clean, and full of tourists. The paintings around her were familiar in an odd way, like old childhood friends, calling to her from the past...

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Garry stepped out of the small door, and into the artificial light. The high-pitched music attacked his ears, while his eyes probed the scene before him. _Ib. Where the hell has that girl gotten off to? _He took a hesitant step forwards, cautiously scanning the path for mannequins, dolls, and... Mary. He wondered where Mary was, almost as much as he wondered where Ib was. He proceeded forth, his rose clutched protectively to his side. His health was improving rapidly; he wondered how he had gotten his rose back, and how it was in such good shape. The sketchbook was empty, the only signs of life he could see were butterflies, flitting around in tiresome circles. He was alone with the music. He took the time to stop at a diary, they were all over the place in Guertena's galleries. Garry would stop at almost every one he came across, taking a short amount of time to write a small entry; it helped him keep track of time, and blow off some steam. Writing had always been a close second to art in Garry's list of hobbies, and to sit down and do something so... _normal _sometimes helped him feel better about this whole situation. He signed his name with a flourish, standing and stretching his back. _Where should I go now? _He looked lazily around the block, as though a trail of breadcrumbs would appear to show him the way. _I guess I might take a look around, see if I can find either of them. _He started off towards the pink house in the center of the square, and tried the knob. _Locked. _He also tried knocking, but his efforts were futile. _This is going to be a long day. _He thought as he walked off in another direction, ready to try every door.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Red took her position in the group of ladies. They were all here, all colors of the rainbow. Yellow crawled forward, taking center stage. She began to speak in the language of color, her tongue swirling syllables into the air that danced and twisted like smoke.

_"Today, we bring back Lady Mary,"_ she said calmly. _"The painting isn't completely destroyed, so it should be salvageable. First we must gather her ashes, Green, you Violet, and Orange work on that."_ The mentioned three crawled off in different directions, starting to scoop up the piles of dirty black ash that swirled around the floor. _"Red, you Blue and I can work on getting the sewing materials and painting supplies."_

_"We're going to put her back together? Is that even POSSIBLE?"_ Blue asked.

_"We will make it possible if we have to. My fallen sister, our fallen sister, deserves to be back with us again, does she not?"_ Blue fell silent, nodding slightly.

_"Well then, what are we waiting for?"_ Red asked, flicking a long, thick strand of her hair behind her shoulder. Blue shrugged, and crawled off with Red. Yellow lingered for a while, staring up at Mary's painting.

"I hope you are not in pain, my dearest," she brushed her fingertips against the ravaged canvas. "We will get you back soon." She pressed her lips to the wounded skin of the painting lightly, before turning away. "You always did enjoy company." It was easy to hear the tears that choked her voice, like watching black paint run down a blank canvas.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Ib looked around hopelessly. Her chest was constricted, her breath coming in short, quick gasps. She didn't recognize anyone or anything; anything but the word that attacked her, taunted her. _Guertana... _The lights overhead seemed to flicker slightly. Ib stumbled forwards, into a room without any guests. The music of the gallery had gone silent. She was alone. The painting seemed recognizable enough, although she couldn't tell from where. She squinted, for the first time realizing that her vision was blurry with tears. She stumbled towards it, her heart hammering, and her fingers shaking extremely badly. She was getting close now, the painting was only a few steps away...

Something broke behind her, it sounded distinctly like glass.

Ib was just close enough to get a glimpse of the caption when the lights gave out. _The Forgotten Portrait. _But it wasn't the same painting it had been before...

The man inside it was gone.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Garry had just tried the last door. Locked. The hollow sound of knobs turning cut through the nightmare with an eerie sort of clarity. Garry took a step closer to the last door, knocking loudly on it. No response. _Where is she? Where could she have-_ His own thought was cut short by the sound of scraping, heading towards him. It sounded like metal on metal, or fingernails on chalkboard or... Garry dove for the tulips next to him, making himself as small as possible.

_"Where's Yellow? Wasn't she just behind us?"_ Red said to Blue, as they crawled forwards. Garry blinked twice. _They can talk?__  
_

_"Give the girl some time, she was talking to Mary," _Blue said, in an almost annoyed voice. Garry began to pay more attention to the Ladies, than the dialogue between them. It was remarkable really, they weren't speaking necessarily, it was more of a morse code type of thing. It was hard to explain, but as Garry thought about it, it made more and more sense. They weren't using their larynges to produce noise, they were...painting. The air in front of their mouths swirled lightly with the color that came from their mouths. To an adept painter like Garry, they were like words, different colors stood for different moods, The Lady in Blue exhaled a cloud of green as she murmured a sarcastic retort. Red's head was shrouded in a reddish sort of haze, signifying her annoyance and impatience. It wasn't very noticable, some of the changes in color were only different by a fraction of a pigment. The amounts of color changed too, the more there was, the higher and more demanding the voice.

_"We are all upset about what happened to her and all, but dont you think Yellow is going a bit overboard?" _Red demanded, in a thick exhalation of orange, which Garry interpreted as confusion. _Marry, they are talking about her aren't they?_

_"None of us really know what went down, but the canvas was pretty wrecked... I think it's just shock, her and Yellow were always pretty close." _Blue murmured in a swipe of purple.

They had stopped crawling feet away from Garry, and were now deeply immersed in their conversation. The colors from previous words, Garry noted, were already fading, slowly twisting away from both of them, into the music filled air of the Sketchbook.

_"RED! BLUE! WAIT UP!" _A Lady dressed in yellow crawled towards them.

_"Finally." _Red grumbled.

_"We're glad you showed." _Blue murmured compassionately. Garry watched them resume crawling, right past him. It was only once they were out of earshot, or more 'eye-shot' that he realized how uncomfortable he was. He righted himself, groaning slightly. _Maybe I should follow them..._ He thought as he massaged his shoulder. _It's better than nothing right? _He set off down the crayon streets in a swirl of dark black fabric.


	5. Chapter 4

**Author Note:**

. I feel like there is so much wrong with my writing! Someone please tell me what to fix! Anything will help, I really need some criticism! Please take the time to review, I'd really appreciate it! Keep Reading :) Love chu all~

~Scar

**Chapter 4:**

Her eyelids fluttered open slowly, the rest of her body taking a while to respond with her. "Ugh... where-" She sat up, a long trail of her dark hair falling down from its tightly woven bun and down onto her back. She pulled it out, curls swirling around her face like an aura of darkness around the moon's pale face. Her bright red eyes were wide with shock as she took in the scenery around her. It was dark, extremely dark. She viewed the room around her through a darkish gray haze. The red and blue of the paintings on the wall opposite her shocked her. The color seemed perfectly clear, unaffected by the darkness; almost as though they were... glowing. She stood hastily, eager to get out of the room. _How did I get down here? _She asked herself, as she started down the hallway on the right. She was silent, her footsteps echoing off of the blue tile-like floor with an eerie hollowness. The walls were almost the exact color of the floors, and the amount of BLUE around her was quite startling. She didn't stop. After a while of walking, she noticed the letters on the wall. _W. E. L. C. O. M. E. _The letters ran down the length of the corridor leading towards a door near the end, one that was lighter than the walls, it matched the letters almost perfectly. The door was _cracked,_ and a soft reddish light was slowly trickling through it; she noticed something fall, very near the entrance, and bent to examine it. A petal. It was soft, with a waxy sort of polish keeping the color intact. The color that glared back into eyes that were almost a clear reflection of itself. Red. _B. A. C. K. _The four letters stamped themselves out just above the doorway. Ib rest a hand on the bluish surface, pushing it open slightly. The room was of the same color as the one she had come from, a large painting glared at her from the other side of the room. It depicted a large head, presumably of a woman, with long blue hair that seemed to escape the canvas at the bottom; her eyes were bloodshot, and her tongue was dry. Ib looked down at the floor before the painting. There, on the ground, was a delicate rose. It was pert and beautiful, its curling red petals softly framing it's center with an angelic grace. It seemed too beautiful to be real. She picked it up, its thorns tearing at her skin slightly, and cupped it to her chest. She had the strangest feeling that this might be important to her for some odd reason. She turned away from the painting, and started towards the hall, but not before hearing a sickening crunch. She slowly, hesitantly turned towards the way she came from. The woman in the painting was gone, and in her place a message written in pure red.

_"WE THOUGHT YOU'D NEVER, EVER COME HOME, IB."_

She turned, swallowing back a scream, and ran.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

The three Ladies had rounded a corner, and Garry couldn't see them or their color trails anymore. He scanned the corridor he was in lazily. He didn't exactly remember the path he had taken, and this part of the gallery didn't look familiar at all. _I had thought... almost for sure that... _He shook his head. _Where does this go, I wonder? _ He took a step towards a white door, that was dripping with black paint. He had never seen any black paint in the Galleries, in the beginning it had surprised him, but it seemed to be making more and more sense the longer he spent in the gallery. Guertana was the master of color, he could manipulate anything to look like anything else. Black seemed to be his least used color, and Garry found Guertana's favorite to be either purple or blue. _Strange... _He shook that thought off too, instead pressing his hand against the door and swinging it open. The room was silent, and Garry took one look around before leaving. _What a pointless room. All white, with just boxes piled up all over the place. I guess every Gallery needs a storeroom, right? _He shut the door behind him. _Where did the Ladies run off to? Wouldn't I have heard them by now? _Garry pressed further down the corridor, it opened into a large space that was almost completely empty. A desk lay in the middle, surrounded by four dark acrylic vases. The walls were bare, and the floor was dark, painted with stars. Garry looked up, and drew in a sharp breath. It was beautiful, a circlet of heavenly bodies hanging from strings, swaying lightly as though willed by a breeze. _The Solar System. _He took another step closer, nearing the desk slowly. If he had paid more attention, he would have heard the crunching. And if he listened very closely, he might have even heard the screams.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

The hallway was now covered in red letters, screaming out to her with an exaggerated sense of importance. _I.B. _The two letters were everywhere, she ran, through tearing down the corridor, never pausing. _W.E. M.I.S.S.E.D. Y.O.U. _Splashed onto the floor, as though someone had hurriedly wrote it with a thick paintbrush. _W.H.Y. D.I.D. Y.O.U. L.E.A.V.E. Y.O.U.R. F.R.I.E.N.D.S? _She jumped nimbly over it, rushing towards the door at the far end of the wall. There was a desk there, that contained a book, along with a pen. Ib didn't stop to look at it; choosing instead to blindly dash for the door that was slightly ajar. It was only on the other side of the door, that she took the time to exhale; her fingers were trembling, her whole body rocking slightly with violent shivers. _Where-where am I? _She looked down at her hands, and was surprised to see the blood there. She had gripped her rose too tightly, and beads of the reddish liquid now trailed across her whitish hands. She looked up, taking in the new area. It was green, completely green, there was as much green as there had been blue. She took a step forwards, willing herself to stop shaking. She looked at the paintings on the wall, a ladybug, bee, butterfly, and spider. They weren't really remarkable in any way. She walked up to the butterfly one, running her fingers across its glass case. _What do I do now? _The diary from the previous room called to her from her mind. _I don't really want to go back there... _She stepped away from the painting, and walked left a few paces. She was surprised to find a whitish note taped to the wall hurriedly. "I would remind you again, but you should remember -G". _G? For Guertana? Oh it must be... _She examined the corridor beyond the note. It was rather narrow, with walls that clung close on either side. She would be able to get past, without much trouble either. _What would there be to remember, I wonder, about walking down a hallway? _She shrugged it off, and took a hesitant step towards it. Seconds later, Ib started screaming._  
_


	6. Chapter 5

**Author Note:**

Well I still have viewers, so I guess that's good, right? Is there anything I can improve on? I know the previous chapter was a little rushed, but I need to get to the point where Garry and Ib are back together again to really start off on the plot.

Brace yourself for a NASTY plot twist at the end, ooh you'll hate it!

Keep Reading :) Love chu all~

~Scar

**Chapter 5:**

_"We're never going to get ANYTHING done at the rate we're going," _Red declared in an exclamation of bitter purple.

_"Well maybe if you would SHUT YOUR TRAP for five SECONDS Yellow could remember where we were going!" _Blue yelled in vivid red.

_"AT LEAST MY ARGUING IS ACTUALLY VALID!"_

_"How immature ARE you? Don't you realize the-"_

_"Both go you, be quiet please." _Yellow murmured in a soft stream of blue._ "I need to concentrate." _Yellow pressed her fingertips to her temples, and massaged them absentmindedly. The other two fell silent, accepting the somber tone to her voice with a silent agreement. There were more important tasks than arguing at the moment. White would be there soon, they had to get back. Yellow lead them down a narrow corridor, towards a door that was completely white._ "What is this?" _She asked Blue and Red, brushing her fingers against the black paint that ran down the pure white surface. It burned like acid. She screamed in agony, rubbing the paint off of her fingers and onto the door.

_"YELLOW! Red quickly, get her some Yellow paint! Hurry we don't have much time!"_ Blue's harsh words cut through the screams like a maroon colored knife.

Yellow looked down at her fingers, watching them dull and start to crack, the black had seeped down into them.

Black. The one color of paint Yellow had never seen in the actual gallery.

It was beautiful in a strange sort of way, whispering to her like the it was the advocate of death. Beautiful...

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Garry stood, transfixed, as he stared up at the beautiful sculpture. It was so lifelike, with different bits of material swirling around others like some kind of cosmic dance. He wondered how it was even possible, Guertana had shaped and molded a personal milky way. He sighed, pulling himself out of his reverie and stepping towards the desk in the center of the room; it was only then that he looked down at the floor. There was a swirling, dark blue paint trail on the tile, mixing with a red liquid that looked suspiciously like blood. He heard it then. The snapping. It sounded like a tree being broken apart, branch by branch, Garry could hear something else, but it wasn't as loud. He tried to ignore it, instead choosing to sit at the desk and write.

_The Ladies are gone, I don't know where to venture from here. It's dark, I can barely see. If only I had my lighter... But I don't know where it went. I don't know who has it now._

The crunching was getting progressively louder.

_There is a crunching noise here, something that reminds me of trees being knocked down. I don't know what it is, I don't know where I am. This room is unfamiliar. I don't even recognize this portion of the gallery, it's all dark, the absence of color is startling. White and black, that's all there-_

Garry stopped writing, and turned to look towards the source of the loud noise. The pen clattered to the floor as he stood with surprise. It was a doll, one that reminded Garry of the one he had kicked earlier. He shivered slightly. "Umm...hello there, doll." A splash of paint smeared near his feet. _My name is Margret. _"Hello Margret, are you er- looking for something?" _I like my name. Do you like my name?_ "Yes, it's very er- nice." _That's good. _The doll's small features morphed into a sickening sort of smile._ Yes, that makes me happy. You like making me happy don't you? Because that's what friends do. And you're my friend. _The doll took a step towards him, he took a step back. _I have something for you, Garry. You'll need it to unlock the door. But just giving it to you wouldn't be any fun would it?_ Garry heard the crunching sound intensify more, it assaulted his eardrums, and he stumbled backwards a few more steps, clutching his rose tightly to his chest. His back pressed against the door, and he gasped as the realized it had locked. _Hide and seek. You played it earlier didn't you? Play again. Play with me. _The bluish paint splattered onto his shoes.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Orange, Green, and Purple had finished collecting Mary's ashes, and were now tidying the rest of the room for White's arrival. White was the most elusive of the Ladies, she was only seen once in a while. White was the wisest of the Ladies, she was the oldest painting in the entire Gallery, and knew Guertana personally. Earlier that day, Greem had gotten a message from her, one that had simply said: "Gather the ashes, and the supplies. I'll be there at quarter to midnight." None of them had been exactly sure what she was planning, but they knew it had to do with Mary, and bringing her back. So they had done exactly as asked, they would do anything for their princess. Mary was a blessing to the Ladies, like their flesh and blood child. When they had found her painting in tatters like this... It had driven them off the edge. Mary. Poor Mary.

_"How much longer until White gets here?"_ Orange asked with a clear, soft exhalation of yellow.

_"Not long, we just need the others to hurry up and get back already,"_ Purple said calmly. Green nodded, smoothing down her dress.

_"Let's finish cleaning up, she is the equivalent of royal company."_ They all set off back to work, straightening up the place.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

The hand that grasped her rose was dark black, it tore into the petals maliciously, and Ib watched a few fall. "NO!" She could feel bits of her strength ebbing away with each fallen lifeline of the flower. She squirmed out of it's reach, watching it reach, it's fingertips extended towards the rose. Ib clenched it tighter, ignoring the pinpricks of pain and the blood that bubbled out of the narrow cuts from the thorns. She was breathing heavily, the rise and fall of her chest very noticeable. _What-What was that? _She backed up, her shoulders bumped against the far wall, as she stepped around the hand. If she could just stay out of reach... Something clawed her back, and she gasped as she felt fingers reach for the rose. "Get AWAY from me!" More petals littered the floor, the crimson color matching the blood that trickled down her hands. She felt weak, tired. Her rose's petals were half gone, and as she stumbled down the hallway, another one or two tricked away softly. She stumbled, falling to her knees; her breathing was ragged, and as she crawled forwards with bloody fingers outstretched she felt a bone or two crack. The hot taste of blood filled her mouth. She looked up, her eyelids fluttered tiredly. There was a desk near her, one that hadn't been there before, she could just make out an acrylic vase atop of it, one that was hopefully full of water. She extended her hand towards it, the rose slipping from her bloody fingers and slipping into the vase...


	7. Chapter 6

**Author Note:**

I want to really thank all of you who are taking the time to read this fanfic, I really enjoy writing, and appreciate all of your support! i think I'll continue through with this one until the very end, and to think it was once destined for the one-shot area of XP

Keep reading :) ~Scar

**Chapter 6:**

_Splash_. Ib felt a surge of relief run through her body as she closed her eyes. _That was **too** close. _She sighed, sitting up and stretching her arms. She wasn't tired, putting the rose into the water seemed to have galvanized her entire being. She stood, wary of the black hands that still wiggled their fingertips towards her, and brushed off her shirt. With one nimble move of her hand, her rose was at her side, she took a few deep breaths, before stepping forwards again hesitantly. She cried out as another hand plunged out of the wall, grabbing for her; but it was easy to sidestep, and she was soon on her way. The hallway opened up into a larger Green space, there was a painting on the wall, one that resembled an ant, and a door, which she tried. Locked. Guertena really loved to lock things. Ib jumped a little as she heard the splash of paint on the wall behind her, she turned, and found a small note that was written in dripping red. "Let's test your memory, dear Ib. Have you forgotten the games we used to play already? -G" She took a deep breath, willing her shaking fingertips to calm. She was beginning to vaguely remember this horrible maze, and wasn't very surprised to see that she could pull the painting off of the wall. _What did I do with this before? There was a room... With a big hole in the floor. _She looked back towards the groping hands._ And it was back there. _With a heavy sigh, she set off back in that direction, hoping that her memory would prove to be right.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Garry was panicking. He looked around the room quickly, but there was a very limited amount of hiding places in sight. First he ran to the tables with the four vases, and checked inside each of them. They were all filled with different colors of paint; red, yellow, green, and blue. He dumped each of the vases out onto the floor, splashes of vivid color splattering in sharp relief against the blackish flooring. Nothing. His head whipped around quickly, and he drew in a sharp breath as he saw what was walking (or more... Limping) towards him. It was a man, or at least it vaguely resembled one. His body was normal, and his clothes mundane, but his face... It was deformed. Different shades of black and blue swirled against it, distorting it's features. The first descriptive word that came to Garry's mind was 'mistake'. Margret was shaking slightly, Garry looked down to read her brightly colored message. _Hurry, friend. We need to get out of here, he... He ate Margret's doll friends. Margret never really liked them, but she likes you. Think. Where would a key be hidden? _Garry tried to look around, but found his gaze riveted to the monster's ugly face. There was something in it's deformed mouth. It looked like a piece of purplish yarn... "JUST TELL ME WHERE IT IS!" He screeched, looking towards Margret. _Margret can't tell G-_ Garry kicked her sharply. "IVE SAID IT ONCE, AND ILL SAY IT AGAIN. IM SICK OF THESE DAMNED DOLLS." Margret's head came off with a dull snap; it rolled across the floor, ever closer to the monster. _Garry! But we're friends! Garry didn't pay any attention. _He was too busy looking, searching everywhere. He was only interrupted by the horrible crunching sound. His head turned slowly, and he stared with horrified eyes as the terrible creature bit into Margret's wooden skull. Red paint and purple yarn rained down onto the floor. The paint spelled out a final message. _Friends don't kill one an- _It looked as though she didn't get the chance to finish. He gave the room a final glance, and his eyes rested on a shiny object that was tucked under Margret's body. Something that vaguely resembled- he dove towards it without thought; not taking the time to look up and see that the monster had had the same idea.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Red frantically rushed towards the nearest painting, ripping it from the wall. The man inside cursed and screamed at her as she ripped a yellow piece of canvas from it, and discarded the bulky frame to the floor. _"Blue! Catch!" _She threw the piece with as much strength as she could muster. Blue caught it gracefully, tipping forward slightly in her frame.

_ "Alright Yellow, you're going to be okay." _She wrapped Yellow's disintegrating hands in the yellowed canvas tightly, and held the new bandages on.

Relief ran through Yellow's body as the paint seeped into her wounds. She sighed, and let her muscles relax. She would be okay for now. _"I'm fine now,"_ she murmured softly. _"You two, get inside, get the supplies. Don't touch anything else."_ She held her injured fingers to her chest, wiping the tears away from her eyes. _"Avoid the black paint, and hurry. White will be coming soon, we have to be back before she shows up."_

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Ib brushed past the last hand, and back into the hallway she had come from. It appeared that her guess had been right; and as she walked into the hallway on her right, painting in hand, she silently applauded to herself. She passed four paintings, each one labeled as a different part of a story. She stopped for a moment at the last one. "Last Chapter." She had a feeling her own story would continue for a while...there was a door there, at the end of the hall, one that matched the Green of the room with impeccable accuracy. She swung it open silently. And stepped into the next room. It was sparse, with a dark chasm running vertically through the middle of it, cutting it neatly in half. She lay the ant painting across it, and hesitantly placed her foot against the glass. She heard a cracking sound, and looked down nervously. But the painting itself hadn't cracked, the image beneath it had. The ant's exoskeleton was now partially smashed, and a strange reddish goo was leaking from it, it coated Ib's shoe too. Ib shook it off, and finished crossing. Through the next door, she found herself in another almost empty room. There was a large, framed painting on the wall, who's caption read 'Epilogue.' Ib looked down at the floor, and wasn't surprised to find a light Green Key. She felt that something in the room was missing though, something that made her uneasy; she shrugged, and grabbed the key, slipping it into her pocket, the one that also held her handkerchief. She turned to leave, and was halfway to the door before she felt the hand on her shoulder. A distinctly inhuman hand. _Splash. _Ib looked up at the painted note. "Forget about something? -G"


	8. Chapter 7

**Author Note:**

Sorry I was a little late with this one XD at least I got it done today, right? Oh, just warning you, there is a semi-gory scene coming up, so beware that (it isn't that bad, don't worry too much).

Keep Reading :) Love chu all~

~Scar

**Chapter 7:**

Garry crashed into the monster. It's skin was rough, the textured canvas feeling like sandpaper against his bare hands. He saw it before he felt it. The monster's deformed lips parted, and needle sharp teeth bit into his arm, ripping through the dark black fabric of his coat and drawing beads of thick, crimson blood. The pain hit him like a tsunami. He tilted his head back in a scream of pure agony. The monster crushed through his muscle, not stopping at the bone. _Crack_. He writhed in the creatures grasp. With a sickening sucking sound, his arm tore free. Droplets of blood splattered across the floor, he stumbled backwards, grabbing the key with his remaining hand. He looked down at his rose, half of the petals had been ripped away. His arm was a gruesome sight, peaks and valleys of ragged, ripped muscle were dripping with red blood. Garry could just make out the white of bone between two peaks. _Water. I need to heal my rose. _He stumbled towards the door, his dark blood drenching his coat. The monster chewed on the flesh of his arm on the other side of the room, and Garry could see a piece of himself go down its throat every few seconds. He was starting to feel dizzy. He unlocked the door with a painful move. His breathing was rapid, his heartbeat quick and erratic. _Water..._ He numbly shut the door behind him, watching the creature rip another portion of his arm away with its deformed mouth. _Water_. His blood left a trail behind him. Petals dizzily swung towards the floor, splashing lightly into puddles of red. His body slumped against the wall, utterly exhausted, as he located a vase to slip his blue rose into. _What was that...that thing?_ Garry trembled slightly, it had been terrifying. But that wouldn't be the worst thing Garry would see in the days to come. The gallery held many more surprises; waiting in its deepest, darkest corners. Waiting for him. After all, one can't play by themselves for long, can they?

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Yellow, Red, and Blue were on their way back towards Mary's place, supplies on hand. It was a far walk (or more, crawl) and they were soon rather tired. Yellow took one more heaving pull, before slumping down. _"I'd say we need a little rest, I'm ever so tired." _Blue and Red nodded solemnly.

_"Yes, but we need to hurry, we cannot keep White waiting,"_ Blue exhaled in a cloud of grayish smoke.

_"Yeah. Our 'royal' guest,"_ Red muttered bitterly.

A few minutes later, they were well on their way back, with only a few blocks to go. _"What makes White so special anyways? Is it just because she's the oldest of the paintings?" _Red inquired in a cloud of orange.

_"No, it isn't just that. White is the color of purity, she has some special talents and abilities, which is what makes us think she knows how to save Mary..." _Blue murmured, looking over at Yellow's frame and sighing in a soft shade of blue.

_"So she's magic?"_

_"Not really, just skilled. She knows how to manipulate the items of the Guertana world well."_ Red nodded thoughtfully. Yellow stopped them a few paces from the door.

_"Best behavior. Am I clear?"_ She muttered coldly, pushing it open, and taking her place at the head of the room.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Ib slowly turned to look behind her. The thing that had grabbed her arm was a mannequin, its fingers bit into her shoulder with an unspoken urgency, like a parent trying to shake a child awake to escape from a fire. It was wearing a red dress, and was made of a dark black plastic substance Ib couldn't name. She squirmed in its grasp, and felt it reach around her flailing limbs for her rose... she kicked it away, sharply, and watched it fall to the floor, one of its plastic legs ripping free and clattering to the other side of the room. She stared at the figure that squirmed towards her. _Now what? I guess there is only one way out... _She turned back for the door, running as fast as she could, it swung open easily, and she stepped over into the room. Her right foot contacted with the glass of the ant painting, and she shifted to allow enough room for her left before- _Crack. Crack. Crack. _The glass beneath her shook and complained before shattering into dozens of pieces. The small shards reflected rainbows of light onto the walls, a colorful masquerade playing out in stark contrast to the plain green. She grabbed for the jagged edge of the pit, and caught hold just before she plummeted into the darkness below. But there was just one problem. The side of the hole she had grasped was the one nearest to the room she had come from, which meant... Ib heard the door creak open slowly, and watched the mannequin crawl into the greenish light. Her fingers already ached from holding on, and they were starting to get slippery with sweat. She tried to shift her weight, to get another handhold, but the walls on the inside of the hole were surprisingly smooth and clear. The mannequin took a deliberate crawl forwards, shifting to a kneeling position at the edge of the hole. It reached towards her, almost looking as though it were trying to pull her up, offering her a hand, before stopping. It remained motionless for a while, while Ib struggled to grip the now slippery surface with great difficulty. Suddenly, its dark black hand contacted Ib's with a sharp smack. The actual impact wasn't the real reason she let go, it was more the shock of the sudden movement. But nonetheless, her fingers slipped, she let go, and she fell.

And fell. And fell. And fell.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

White opened the door to the house with a heavy sigh. _Mary, look what you've gone and done this time. _All of the other Ladies were there, and it looked as though they had gathered all of the things she had requested. _Good. We may be able to solve this problem if we work fast._

Green watched the Lady in White stride across Mary's room. She was beautiful, her face cloaked in a delicate white veil, and her hands shielded by pure white gloves. Her dress was long and satiny, with ornate decoration and accents. Everywhere she crawled, she left a light trail of soft white rose petals. _Beautiful... _Green turned her attention to the other Ladies. There was a wide range of expressions there, Red seemed bored and slightly annoyed, Blue looked hopeful, Purple was smiling softly, and Yellow was absolutely empty. There was no sign of anything, a blank canvas _"-and Green. I'll need you three to mix the paint, while I show the others how we are going to work this." _Purple and Blue turned to her expectantly, and she just stared.

_"Umm alright..."_ She crawled off with Purple, hopefully she would tell her what to do.

White watched them all with a light smile on her face. The women before her were her sisters after all, and seeing them all together working like this made her happy in a strange sort of way. The more she smiled, the more sure she was that they could pull it off.

Mary would come home to them.

White would make sure of it.

And she would never leave again.


	9. Chapter 8

**Author Note:**

YAY! This story is doing so well! Over 500 views! *throws party* (Okay, 500 is good for ME, don't judge :P) anyhow, I'd like you all to know that I really appreciate the time you put into reading and reviewing this, I would give you a spoiler here, but I know some of you don't appreciate that sort of thing XD

Love chu all~ Keep reading :)

~Scar

**Chapter 8:**

Garry watched the petals of his rose reform with mild interest, it had always surprised him that they healed so fast, and now was no exception. The thing that really sparked his curiosity however, was the question of if his arm would actually regrow, or if it would just heal over. He watched intently, and jumped a little when his bone started to elongate and shape. The whitish substance quickly formed all the bones of his arm even down to the small bones that made up the fingers, and Garry watched the raw muscles shift and wrap around them like a blanket. The skin was the last to reappear, running down his arm so as to almost look like dripping paint, it formed perfectly. His nails grew back shortly too, and the only scar left visible after long was the tear in the sleeve of his velvety, dark coat. He flexed his fingers; they felt stiff, unused. With a loud sigh, he pulled off the tattered, bloody coat, draping it over his forearm. He ruffled his violet hair, and yawned slightly, his muscles flexing under pale white skin. His green tank-top drooped slightly, clinging to his frame awkwardly. _I'm a MESS. When was the last time I showered? _He made a face. _A very long time indeed. _Shrugging the thought off, he held his rose to his chest tightly, and started off down the corridor. He still had no recollection of this part of the Gallery, it looked old somehow. Like Garry was getting closer to the 'heart' of Guertena. His footsteps were loud, he tried to be quieter, there could be all kinds of terrible monsters in here. He turned a corner, and found a desk, pen ready, diary opened to the correct page. He sat.

_I saw a monster today. A horrible monster with a deformed face all purple and black; even the dolls were scared of him, I think he ate them. There was a room, one that was so beautiful I almost got fatally distracted, with stars on all of the walls and various heavenly bodies dangling from strings from above. The colors blended perfectly. Guertana really likes the color blue or so I have noticed, he also tends to use a lot of purple. I lost an arm, the monster ate it; ripped the flesh from the bone like it was a chicken leg. When I placed my rose in the water, the arm re-grew, it seems fully functioning. I'm lost. Hopelessly lost. I almost wish I had brought Margret with me, she would be almost welcome company. I don't like being alone. I miss Ib, I don't know where she's run off to. Hopelessly lost, and alone. It's terrible really- _He set the pen down, and put his head in his hands. _I don't like being alone. _The corridor was eerily quiet, and there was not a creature in sight. A wave of uneasiness rolled through him, he thought it might be a good idea to move on. The dark walls of the gallery seemed to be pressing in, caging him in a realm of blackness. He stood, and set off down the corridor, leaving the book open to the page he had written on.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Ib was still falling. The walls seemed to be gradually changing color, getting darker; as she fell, she began to notice the letters, letters that spelled out words. _I./W. A. S./G. E. T. T. I. N. G./S. I. C. K./O. F./T. H. E./S. A. M. E./O. L. D./G. A. M. E. -G _The letters and slashes (she assumed they stood for 'space') flew past her, in all colors of the rainbow. She was almost getting sick of falling. The original terror of plummeting to her death had slowly faded away over the course of ten minutes, and she was now left in a strange in between. She still feared hitting the bottom, but was almost longing for it. More letters appeared on the wall, one word. _G. R. O. U. N. D _They were followed by a long blue arrow pointing downwards. _Well shouldn't it be obvious that-_ It took her a few seconds to realize that Guertena wasn't merely pointing out the direction in which she was falling, but was actually warning her. Her foot contacted something, it didn't really feel like flooring, the rest of her body followed, crashing into the strange object. Her observations were proven true as she heard a muffled cry of surprise from underneath her body. A distinctly _human_ cry of surprise.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

White ran the embroidery needle through the painting for the last time, cutting the whitish string nimbly. _"Now, the paint, Green?" _Green handed her a large canister full of grayish black liquid, it gave of the distinct, smoky smell of Mary's ash. _"Very good, this will work nicely." _She had just dipped the head of a large brush into the can when the door opened behind her. She laughed in a cruel, lifeless tone. _"Black. Finally, I didn't think you'd ever end up showing up,"_ the cloud of color that emerged from her mouth was as cold and lifeless as the color she had mentioned, it shrouded her veiled head like the lingering touch of death.

Purple bit back a surprised gasp. The creature that had crawled in the room was mangled and grotesque, with long, sharp nails that clicked hollowly onto the floor and lightly gouged into the crayon-drawn wood and a ripped, dirty dress through which the tell-tale white of bone was visible. Her hair fell around her face like a dark black curtain, tousled and unmade, parts of it looked sticky with something black and shiny. Her face was the most noticeable part of all, her mouth was simply not there, replaced by a permanent unwavering grimace that had been sewn on directly; her eyes were gone, and a dark, thick liquid dripped from them, streaking down her face like tears and splashing onto the floor. The hiss of wood burning could be heard and seen as the liquid splashed onto it, it ripped through the wood like acid. Black? Purple had been through many of the rooms of Guertena's gallery, and had always noticed the lack of the color. She had heard from the other ladies that Guertana had used it abundantly on many of his earlier paintings, but after a period of time, practically outlawed it from his own work. The sickening creature continued crawling forwards, White didn't even turn. Purple watched a delicate rose petal fall from the back of White's frame, and flinched as it burned in a puddle of black acid.

It made sense. If there was a white, there had to be a black.

If there was light, there had to be darkness.

Good and bad.

Unfortunately for her, it wasn't always so easy to tell which was which...


	10. Chapter 9

**Author Note: **

This chapter was really fun to write, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did XP The plot is going to start picking up now, here's where I diverge from the plot of Ib and delve into my own. Hopefully it doesn't get boring...

Love chu all~ Keep Reading :)

~Scar

**Chapter 9:**

Garry groaned and tried to push the foreign weight off of his body. Something had fallen _on top _of him. That was a first. His hand brushed against a smaller, more porcelain one. It was then that he noticed that it wasn't actually a creature on top of him, but that it was a human being. "Oh!" He exclaimed, as he looked the girl up and down. She was tall, she looked to be in her early twentys, with long dark brown hair and shimmering ruby-red eyes. She was attractive, and had an attitude of stoic, calm clarity. "Miss... er-" It was then that Garry realized that in all of their adventures together, he had never once asked what Ib's last name was. The woman who was now sitting on his chest was obviously her mother, or was it? She _was_ a bit too young (as in, A LOT) to have an eight-year old daughter... but the resemblance was striking, so who could this girl be? "Ummm... hello."

Ib bit back a cry of surprise, the man that was squirming under her fingertips now was familiar, extremely familiar. She shifted, almost against her will, and touched his face softly. _The Forgotten Portrait..._ It was him. Every detail, the coat that was strewn lazily across his stomach, the lavender hair, the long, dark lashes, and the thin, pale lips. "Who are you?" She asked, looking down at him, a slight blush rising to her cheeks as she realized that she was pinning him down. "Oh, er- sorry about that," she scrambled off of him, her back pressing against the dark wall of the corridor.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled brightly, sitting up, "my name is Garry." The name felt soft and familiar in her mouth when she thought it. _Garry._ It was like rock candy, sharp and edgy, but sweet and melty at the same time.

"Do you have a last name?" She questioned, desperately wanting to know more. Anything, everything about him, the man who she had drawn so many times, the face that was so foreignly familiar.

"I have one, but I don't really use it anymore." Ib nodded, not wanting to push him too far, to scare him away. "Anyways, enough about me, what's your name?" Ib extended a hand, butterflies clouding her stomach as he extended his to meet it. His skin was cold, icy and smooth as marble. She lingered for a second more than necessary.

"Ib. That's my name," she said brusquely, not going into her last name either, it was a complicated situation. Garry looked puzzled, extremely puzzled.

"Ib? That's strange... I didn't know it was such a common name, what are the odds?" He laughed slightly, his tousled purple hair falling into his eyes, Ib resisted the urge to push it away.

"The odds?" She asked curiously, trying not to stare.

"I met a younger girl here, she was about eight years old, we travelled together for a while, but got split up; I don't know where she is now..." He scratched his head, and Ib admired the way his tank top clung to his muscular chest. She forced herself to look away.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, and the strange thing is, she looked kind of like you too..." The puzzled look returned to his eyes.

"Why is that so odd?"

"Because her name was also Ib." They stared at each other blankly. "How old are you?"

"22."

Garry's puzzled features became even more puzzled, he leaned forwards, his eyes widening slightly. "Ib?" She blinked twice. Her memories were returning slowly, and he was in a lot of them.

"Garry..." She took an object from her jacket pocket, she had never understood why she kept it, or why she even had it in the first place; but she knew now. She pressed it into his hand. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

Garry just stared at the lighter in his hand in utter disbelief.

_I slept WAY past my alarm clock this time._

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Black's nails lightly grazed the petal that had mixed into the acid puddle on the floor, she hissed and growled under her breath. White didn't turn.

_"Well get to work, you good for nothing monster." _White exhaled a dark blackish stream of purple._ "I called you here for a reason, didn't I?" _Black nodded, plucking the brush from White's fingers, they both hissed as their opposite color touched their skin. White moved to the side, allowing Black more room. The other Ladies just sat there, mouth's slightly open in disbelief, as Black smeared a stroke of the putrid paint onto the canvas. The brush flowed across the white embroidery smoothly, quickly, soon there was a base color of complete gray. Black turned her head towards White, and gurgled something. Black paint dripped down her chin, sliding down through her uneven stitched mouth. _Splash. Hiss. _Yellow watched it dissolve into the wood. _"Yes, it's over there,"_ White indicated to another tub of paint that hadn't been brought in by any of the Ladies, White must have left it there. Black plunged the brush, still coated with gray, into the can. When she lifted it out, it was coated in yellow. She quickly got back to work.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

At first it had felt like she was being shaken awake, like cold, dark hands had gripped her shoulders and jerked them back and forth. It was like that for a few days, before it started to hurt. Little needles were tearing holes in her, ripping through her dress, biting into her skin, and thrusting through the muscle and bone. It had hurt, but it was bearable. This was just hell. Droplets of acid were splashing onto her skin every second, wherever the blackish stuff touched would grow cold and turn gray. Mary didn't like it one bit. A big fat one hit her in the nose, dissolving through her skin and changing its beautiful color. She bit back a scream. What good would screaming do? She had been trapped, all alone in the darkness, but now that the darkness was pulling her back, she almost missed her situation before. Maybe this was death. How did paintings die? Could they die? _Splash. _Her muscles clenched with pain. The rate at which the liquid was coming had increased, there were more and more of the drops by the second. In one of those agonizing seconds, she finally realized what was happening.

She welcomed the pain a bit more after that.


	11. Chapter 10

**Author Note:**

Another chapter! I'm really surprised I've been able to post a chapter every day! :D yay! This fanfic is doing really well X3 I'm so happy! Anyways... here we go, Chapter 10!

Love chu all~ Keep Reading :)

~Scar

**Chapter 10:**

"You're... old now?" Garry asked, in utter disbelief, his eyes wide with shock. Ib laughed, and the light chiming sound calmed him a bit. It was familiar, her laugh, the one thing he could see that hadn't changed a bit.

"Younger than you if I recall correctly. Now, where the hell are we?" She asked. Garry smiled to himself. She had never been one to hesitate, a very strong-willed personality indeed.

"I'm not so sure myself, I wandered down this hallway earlier; but this whole section of the gallery seems different, older somehow," He looked around, nodding slightly. Ib thought about it, she did get the feeling that this corridor was older, she couldn't pinpoint why, maybe it was the utter lack of color; she had never seen so much black in any of the Guertena galleries.

"What's up with the dark colors?"

"I'm not sure..." He stood, pressing a hand to the wall for support, his muscles shifting under his tank-top, Ib kept telling herself to stop looking. He looked weak, tired.

"Are you okay?" Ib asked, looking down at his bluish rose, it was alive, but wilting slightly, the petals seemed to be smeared with some darker color around the edges, it looked kind of like black.

"Yeah, I believe so," but even as he said it he slumped against the wall slightly.

"Here." She shifted so their bodies were pressed against each other, side by side, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"That's not-" He blushed slightly, Ib shook her head slightly.

"Just accept it, it's not like your complaining is going to make me back down," she snapped, smiling slightly to herself. It was remarkable, hours ago she didn't know where she was, or what was going on, but now, she felt like she had eight years ago; and with Garry by her side... she didn't feel any fear as she prepared to press forward into the unforgiving darkness.

"Where are we going to go?" Garry asked, his breathing slightly shallow. It was a good question.

"First, we are going to find you a vase," She led him down the corridor, their footsteps ringing through the dark emptiness. It was a rather long corridor, seeming to stretch forever in both directions. Intermittenly here and there were doorways, but they were all locked tight (they checked every single one). Garry leaned more against Ib as they walked, his head resting on his arm. He was so delectably close, his breath tickled her neck, and his hair brushed lightly against her pale skin. She shivered slightly. _Vase. That's what I was looking for. _She shook herself slightly, Garry had closed his eyes, snuggling closer against his own arm, she rested her head on his for a moment, his cool skin calming her slightly. _Vase. _With a look of strong determination, she set off again.

Garry just let himself be carried along, slowly slipping into the world of daydreams, he looked up at her determined face through his long lashes. _I'm so glad you found me... I was so alone..._

He smiled slightly as he closed his eyes.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Black pressed the Yellow brush to the canvas, and swirled it expertly. An image seemed to appear, like a ghost, through the dark gray. _Mary. _Yellow almost started to cry with happiness. _My darling child. _The image was strange though, Mary wasn't exactly herself, her skin was darkish gray, her hair graying yellow, and her dress, a faded green cloth in tatters. Through the tears in the green fabric, Yellow could see more of her pale skin, and long marring scars that looked sewn together. They had put her back together like a puzzle, improvising when the pieces didn't exactly fit together... but Yellow didn't care. She didn't care one bit if it meant Mary would be coming back to them. She didn't think it was possible for a creature like her to have such a strong bond with another painting, but Mary was _hers. _She would NEVER let anyone hurt her again. Black hissed and gurgled, more black paint escaping from the cracks in her stitches; she traced a long clawed finger across the canvas, before leaning in and... kissing it? Yellow watched her with shock, and slight anger.

_"Very good. We're done with you now. Go crawl back to whatever hell hole you came from this time." _White waved towards the door, her attention never wavering from the painting in front of her. _This has to work. _She gently placed a hand on the smooth, painted surface, doing her best not to smear the paint, and reached into it. Her fingers disappeared into the canvas, swallowed up by the dark night. Her face shifted into one full of concentration as she drove her hand further in. Her face slightly flickered with pain, but it didn't last for long. She groped around, feeling for the child on the other side.

_This HAS to work._

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Mary was in extreme pain by now. She squirmed uncomfortably, tears running down her face as the last fat, black droplet of poison splashed onto her skin. _Now what? _She waited, and waited and waited. It was a long wait before anything happened; but one day, a dark portal, swirling with black and purple expanded in front of her. It's surface cracked with electricity. There was a hand then, one that was soft, pale white, and partly cloaked in a supple glove, it reached for her, fingertips waggling expectantly. Mary reached out for it, her fingers grazing the opposing ones. It grabbed her firmly, and tugged her through. For the first time in what felt like years, Mary felt the air brush against her skin, the crayon-wood beneath her feet, and the light. She could feel her body absorb the hot sunlight that filtered into the room, she drew in a deep breath and opened her eyes.

She was back. Back in her room with the other Ladies, safe and happy.

And she would never lose those feelings again.


	12. Chapter 11

**Author Note: **

Thanks so much to my faithful viewers! :D I really appreciate your help in getting me this far! Anyways... on to chapter 11! (Oh, and also, I'm wondering how many chapters I should make this... I'm thinking 20 or 21 for now)

Love chu all~ Keep Reading :)

~Scar

**Chapter 11:**

When Garry awoke, the first thing he noticed was the red. It was everywhere, every wall was covered with it; and yet, he still didn't recognize this part of the gallery. The second thing he noticed, was that Ib was gone, quickly followed by the realization that his rose was absent also. He surveyed the room slowly, his eyes trailing across the red.

"Garry?" Ib's voice asked, coming from behind him. His muscles clenched with surprise at first, but then relaxed as he sighed with relief.

"You scared me." Ib nodded at his words, coming into view with his blue rose in hand.

"Here," she nestled it into his fingers, and he closed them around the rose and her hand. Butterflies exploded in her stomach, but she just smiled. Garry stared up at her face.

"Thank you," was all he said. Neither of them moved their hand away, and they just stayed like that for a while, staring into each other's eyes like some kind of cheesy drama show. _Crack. Tinkle, Tinkle. _The sound of glass shattering was heard in the room next to their's. Ib turned, and Garry pulled his hand away from hers, the blue rose clutched tightly in his fingers. He motioned for silence, and slowly stood; Ib followed his lead, standing in the best way to allow for the least possible ammount of noise. Garry held switched his rose to his left hand, and grabbed for Ib's right. She let him, their fingers intertwining quickly, almost as though they had done it before... he pulled her down the corridor, his dark coat fanning out behind them. _When did I put this back on? _He glanced at Ib, and shrugged to himself.

His fingers were cold, and she had shivered slightly as he took her hand in his own; after the initial shock though, she realized how much she actually liked it. The temperature was soothing, and felt natural, she gripped tighter, letting herself be pulled away. _Even though I've known him for most of my life, I really don't know anything about him... _She looked up at his determined face, taking in the sharp angles and smooth alabaster skin, the eyes that never stopped flickering around for one second. He was scanning the walls, searching for something._  
_

"Here," he squeezed into a small corridor that was hidden within a fissure in the wall, and pulled her in with him. It was very narrow, they ended up pressed against each other. His breathing was shallow. She calmed her own breaths, and looked up at him. Warmth spread through her body as she realized his gaze was already on her. He looked away, towards the outer corridor. His breath silenced suddenly, his eyes widening with shock and terror. Because there, stumbling through the hallway, was an unmistakenly mangled, twisted, and grotesque face.

But it was so familiar...

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Mary walked through the hallway of red, cracking her neck and back. She looked like hell, covered in stitch marks, with one eye missing and a deformed, stitched smile. But she was alive, and that was all that had mattered. She continued, stumbling slightly on her missing foot. They headn't patched her together very well. She frowned. Her elongated fingers curled around her Yellow rose, which was now dripping with black. She breathed out a cloud of dark purple, signifying the evil intent in her heart nicely. Ib. She was going to kill her, slice her pretty little throat open with one flick of the claw. She smirked, the stitches stretching painfully across her face, drawing blackish blood. But she didn't care; she was done with pain now. Revenge. It was the one and only word that burned through her mind and heart with a strong clarity. _I'll kill her. _

_Even if it's the last thing I ever have the pleasure of doing._

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Garry covered Ib's mouth with his hand, and gently turned her face in the direction Mary was walking. She bit back a scream, looking up at Garry with fear in her eyes. Mary continued forwards, with a sickening smile on her once girlish face. Ib buried her face against Garry's chest, letting herself act like the eight year old she once was. Mary placed a hand against the wall, her fingers brushing against the small fissure in the wall that led to where they were hiding. Her nails were sharpened to long, needle-like points, they dripped with black. Garry held Ib closer, wrapping his arms around her protectively. _I won't let her hurt you. _He held his breath until Mary passed, and even when she did, did not let go of Ib. He felt her arms wrap around his waist at one point, but could not recall anything else at that moment. The shock of seeing Mary like that had shaken Garry to the core. "Ib," he finally breathed. "She's gone. It's okay now." She looked up at him, her eyes full of tears.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed. Gary brushed away the tears that fell with his thumb.

"For what? You didn't do anything wrong." He hugged her closer to him. She squirmed out of his grasp.

"Don't you get it?! I KILLED her! I killed her to save you..." She looked up at him. "Because I couldn't lose you! Not after I'd lost everything else!" Garry looked at her for a moment, his eyes dark. "I couldn't lose-" he silenced her with one word. One word that she never thought would silence her like that. His lips pressed against hers softly. It was quick, brief; meaningless. But it silenced her. He looked down at her, shaking his head.

"I'M the one who's sorry here," and with that, he slipped out of the hidden passage, and down the hall. Not waiting for her to catch up.


	13. Chapter 12

**Author Note: **

Sorry I couldn't post yesterday D; anyways, here's chapter 12! This story is doing really well! Almost hit 1,000 views!

Love chu all~ Keep Reading :)

~Scar

**Chapter 12:**

Ib stepped out of the small, dark passageway and into the dimly lit red room. She didn't see Garry anywhere. His cool touch lingered on her skin, and the rosy taste of his lips against hers was still palpable. She shook it off. There was a squishing sound, she didn't know from what or where it was coming from, but there it was. _Crack. Squish. Squish. Squelch. Crack. Squish. _She stepped forwards hesitantly, entering a dark passageway. The walls were still red here, and seemed to glow softly, humming with an odd sort of power.

"In my way. Always in the way." The dark black sounding voice ripped through the air. _Crack. Crack. Squish. Squish. _The eerie pattern of sound continued, as the...thing that was slumped over the statue continued hitting it with dull, echoey strikes. "In. My. WAYYYYY!" She screamed, driving her knife deep into the ceramic skull. It shattered, soft dust rising through the air like a disembodied spirit, in small pieces, just as its body once was. She tried to back away, but seemed to be stuck, her shoes refusing to carry her away. The slumped figure tilted its head back, Ib caught a glimpse of its once pale yellow hair. "HahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAH! Don't you want to laugh with me... IB?" The figure's head tilted back farther, it's deep black eyes staring at her wordlessly. _Splash. _A drop of grayish paint splattered against the floor. "LAUGH WITH ME." She crawled in Ib's direction, fingers outstretched, grasping, and stuck to them, small bloody chunks of what looked like human brain. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! WE'LL BE FRIENDS!" She was close now. So close. Ib tried to run, to hide, but there was nowhere to go...

"Nice try." He stepped out, standing in between them. _Garry. _What was he doing here? "Ib... come with me." He extended a hand, but Ib just stared at it. It was pale white as always; but something was wrong... black. It covered his fingernails, his fingers, and his outstretched palm. "Ib." He snatched her hand in his, and pulled her to him, she gasped as his other hand found her waist, and his lips met hers...

"Stay with us. Forever." Mary's demented figure murmured, as she reached them, her fingertips stretching upwards towards Ib's face.

"And Ever." Garry whispered to her as he pulled away.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Garry was shaking all over. He had left Ib behind almost fifteen minutes ago, and she hadn't reappeared yet. _How could I leave her... alone in this gallery. Alone... like I was. _He turned back in the direction he had come. Something was wrong. _Even if I stormed off like that, she would come find me wouldn't she? Why hasn't she come back yet? _His steps echoed eerily. _Alone... _He mentally slapped himself for even thinking it. What a pitiful useless thing he was, crying about his own loneliness, when he was the one who had left. _Ib. I love you. _He was sure of it. The first time he had ever been so sure about anything in his entire life. He looked down at the blue rose in his hands, and fingered the petals softly. _I didn't tell her earlier, because... well because she was so young. _He approached the door slowly, and placed his hand on it. _It had been the day before her ninth birthday. So she just rounded up and told me she was nine. I was twenty-five. A twenty-five year old and a nine-year old? Disgusting. _It opened slowly, creaking on its hinges. _As if I ever had a chance. _But he forgot all about that within a few seconds. "IB!" The cry sounded strangled and pleading in his mouth. He sprinted to the other side of the room, to where she was. Asleep, her features peaceful, eyes closed. And standing above her, a misshapen creature with black eyes and long, thin nails that clicked together. "You BITCH!" He reached over the table Ib rested on, his fingers squeezing the monster's neck with force. His hands were burning, the black acid stinging them furiously, like repetitive bee-stings; but he didn't care. He didn't know what had gotten into him. He clenched tighter. Black gurgled, her eye-sockets widening with what may have been interpreted as surprise.

"Ga... Garry..." Ib's eyelids had fluttered open. "Garry stop. STOP GARRY YOU'LL KILL HER!" He sunk to the floor, his head in his hands, sobbing to himself. The dark water that dripped from his eyelashes stained his fingers black.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Ib tried to sit up, but couldn't, her limbs shook slightly. "Garry. Garry we need to get out- please." He looked up at her, tears dripping from his face to the floor. Her heart clenched with pain. Garry. He was hurting, badly. "Garry..." She reached out for him, her fingertips brushing against his face. The tears burned, sharp pain like acid flared across her fingertips; but she ignored it. "Garry." He stared into her eyes, the tears had stopped. She pulled herself half off of the table, and reached further, her face getting closer and closer to his...

And this time.  
The kiss meant something.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Her lips pressed against his firmly, he forgot how to breathe, how to move, how to do anything. _Ib... _The smell of her hair and her skin was delicious, the soft hands that were wrapped around his neck so perfect... he found his brain, and kissed back. It was hesitant at first, but then spread like wildfire, her lips softened slightly, his did too, and he moved his fingers to the back of her head. _Crack. _It was faster now, she pressed closer to him... _Hiss. _The flames disappeared in one curling trail of smoke.

"Please. Get me out of here." She murmured weakly. Garry did. He picked her up, holding her in his arms as he once had, when she was only eight. And he ran. He ran as he had in the past. It was just like those times, her and him, running. Together. Roses in hand.

But this time the enemy was much more malignant.

Purely evil, in every sense of the word.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Mary's nails dragged against the wall. She smiled at the doll in her fingertips, it was missing its head, and dark red paint seeped from the 'neck wound'. Margret was her name, had once been her name. Perfect. Mary bit into her skin. The flesh-like fabric split under her teeth, and she licked the red paint that escaped from the newest wound. _Sweet, sweet blood. _She bit again, this time successfully tearing off a limb. The doll squirmed beneath her fingertips, as though it still had a mind, a soul trying to stop her even in death. _Splatter. _Drops of red splashed the red floor as she bit again. _Sweet. Sweet._

_Blood._

Red. Red like the girl she was looking for.

_Red Blood._

_Blue Blood._

Her own had once been yellow...

_Red. Blood._


	14. Chapter 13

**Author Note: **

I really love writing this story! Thanks to all of you for your support! I feel so loved! :3 I'll stop rambling and get on to the chapter now...

Love chu all~ Keep Reading :)

~Scar

**Chapter 13:**

Garry didn't stop running for a very long time. It was only when he burst through a large pair of green doors and slumped to the floor that Ib awoke in his arms. She was still weak, her eyes half closed with fatigue and stress.

"Garry..."

"Shh," he breathed into her skin, resting her on the floor.

"You're hurt," her lips loosely formed the syllables, her fingers reaching for him. He pressed his head against her hand, and she stroked his hair softly. "Garry let me see it." He opened his eyes, staring into hers. Slowly, shakily, he lifted his left hand. It was covered in red, terrible red. Ib sighed through softly parted lips. Garry let the two roses slip from his blood-slicked palm, and to the floor.

"I'll be fine." He smiled brightly, "Don't worry about me Ib, worry about yourself!" He looked down at her worriedly.

"I'm just... tired. So tired," she smiled slightly, "I won't worry if you're sure you're okay." Garry looked down at Ib's rose, it was wilting slightly, the petals curling unhealthily.

"Shh," he snuggled her into his arms, taking off his coat and wrapping it around her body, she closed her eyes. "I'm going to go find a vase for you, can you stay here?" She grabbed him by the shirt, suddenly very alert.

"Don't leave me alone again! Garry please!" Her eyes brimmed with tears. He hugged her to himself reassuringly.

"I won't ever leave you, unless you want me to." He smiled sadly, pulling her up and into his arms, his wounded fingers again wrapping around the two roses. The thorns tore into his skin, but he ignored it all. She had closed her eyes again.

"I love you," she murmured as she drifted into a weary sleep. The second she closed her eyes, the nightmare began.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. _She was in a small room, having presumably just entered from the door she stood just inside now. _Bang. Bang. Tick. Bang. Tock. Tick. Bang. Tock. _She backed away from the rattling door, the back of her head pressing against the door on the opposing wall. It was wet with something, something red and sticky. She tried forcing it open. _Bang. Bang. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. _The banging receded for a while before... _BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG. _The door opened behind her, and she stumbled backwards into it, slamming it back in place just in time. She heard the wood of the first door splinter, and the hiss of acid-like black against wood. The acrid smell of burning flesh cut into her nose. _Tap. Tap. Tap. _The ticking from the clocks had stopped, and was now replaced with a dull, repetitive series of clicks. Suddenly, the wood was screaming with agony, Ib watched a dark black nail penetrate it fully, the tip touching her lightly on the shoulder. She looked around the room. There had to be a way out... and there was. A white door, on the other side of the room. But it was being torn into also, she was trapped. She took a step forwards, taking in the rest of the room that she was currently in. It was gray, all of it. And on one side, a dark figure sat on a throne made of the bones of dozens of broken and bleeding dolls. Mary. The doors on either end burst open at the same time, and Ib was forced to retreat backwards, again cornered. Three ladies came at her. One in white, one in black, and one in gray.

_Tick._

_Tock._

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

A doll dropped to the floor, mangled beyond recognition, the only thing remaining a skeleton with one limb full of flesh still clinging to it lovingly. Mary smiled down at her, wiping the blood from her mouth and onto her curved fingertip. _I'll leave them a little message. Just in case they come past here... _She pressed her finger to the wallpaper, and wrote in long blood-red swirling letters. She stepped back, admiring the wall and her handiwork. She giggled to herself, the sound gutteral and demented in her twisted vocal chords, a long line of spit fell from her stitched mouth, and onto the doll at her feet. _Hiss. _Mary turned away, walking as briskly as possible on her damaged foot. Her stomach growled impatiently, already hungry for more of the food she now craved in its most pure, fullest state. _Flesh. _Human and doll alike. Thick, hot flesh that was pulsing with warm, sweet blood. She longed to sink her teeth into it. To hear the delicious splatter of red on the floor, to taste the salty, savory red on her tongue. _Red. _

_Red like roses._

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

"Ib. Ib, it's time to wake up now," Garry gently snuggled her back into his lap, her eyes had begun to slightly flutter open. "Were you having a nightmare?" He murmured the words in her ear, the cold skin of his lips lightly tickling her neck.

"No." He hugged her closer to himself.

"Then why are you shaking?"

"Okay... yes." She smiled, looking back at him, noting the color of the walls around them absent-mindedly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his lips softly forming the words. His lips... that were so close. She kissed him softly, closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling of her lips against his. He smiled into the kiss, his fingertips enticing chills along the back of her head where he lightly gripped her. She broke away slowly.

"I love you," they both said at the same time, Garry grinned goofily, snuggling his coat around both of them, while Ib snuggled against his chest. They stayed there for a while. A forever neither of them wanted to give up. But all forevers have to be cut short eventually... Ib stood, reaching out her hand for his. He took it swiftly, their fingers interlocking in a net of pale white. His fingers were cold, as always, while hers gave off a familiar sort of heat. Warmth. They walked off down the corridor together, Garry's coat draped across Ib's shoulders, and in each of their free hands, a rose, lightly glimmering in the artificial gallery light. It was perfect.

But like forevers, perfection was often shattered.

Ib bit back a scream as she read message on the wall in front of her, the red of it screaming at her from the green canvas of the wall.

"I'm getting tired of fake blood.

Ib. -M"

Garry wasn't looking at the message, but rather at the strangely familiar carcass that rested, slumped, against the wall.

_Margret?_


	15. Chapter 14

**Author Note:**

This chapter might have been a little rushed and/or boring sorry XD I wrote this kind of late (late for me anyways) but I hope you enjoy it anyways. Wow Chapter 14 already? I'm getting pretty close to being done, aren't I?!

Love chu all~ Keep Reading :)

~Scar

**Chapter 14:**

Garry fell to his knees, looking at the ripped, demented corpse of his alleged 'friend'. "Ib... I've seen this doll before." Ib wasn't paying him any attention though, her eyes were still fixed on the blood-red letters that decorated the wall. _Ib._ Her own name screamed back at her. _Blood._ The word that was so appropriately colored seemed to never leave her mind. "Ib..." She fell next to him, hugging him tightly. "Wha-" She was silent, Garry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. "I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that, please," Ib looked up at him, tears running down her face.

"I'm-" He caught himself, "okay." Ib smiled at him, her eyes still full of tears.

"You're ridiculous at times, you know that?" She kissed him, softly, lovingly, her feet arching off of the floor to accommodate for his height. He smiled into the kiss, his hands delicately holding her to him. It was he who pulled away this time.

"I love you." Ib smiled sadly as he said the words, and slid her hand into his. Each suppressing a shiver at the recurring sight of the horror scene that rested before them, they walked off. This part of the gallery was dark and unsettling. They both were expecting an attack at some point, and suspected it would be soon. The lights were dim, and the corridor narrow, claustrophobic almost. Ib and Garry could barely walk next to each other without brushing against the walls. They were blue, darker than Garry's rose, but of the same basic pigment. Ib unconsciously gripped his fingers tighter. Garry gripped right back. There was something off-putting about this area of the gallery. Maybe it was the pure absence of art. There was nothing, the walls completely bare. It was a strange kind of different. _Even the paintings are uneasy around this part of the gallery. I wonder why... _Garry's eyes scanned the floors, walls, even the ceiling. But nothing was out-of-place. They rounded a corner, quickly taking in the room before them with a frenzied sort of fear.

But it was as empty as the room they had come from.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Mary was walking. Walking, walking, and more walking. Did she ever do anything else? The walls around her occasionally changed color, allowing her to semi-enjoy the difference in surroundings; but it was all still the same, at the bottom of it, all she was doing was walking. And walking. And walking. She was EVER so tired of walking. That was when she heard the footsteps. They were soft at first, coming from a hallway hear the one which she now resided in. As the noise increased, she could distinguish between the two pairs; there was a lighter, softer step that presumably belonged to Garry, accompanied by the more clumsy, but still graceful sort-of waltz of Ib's shoes across the dark floor. Then the scent hit her. The delicious, mouth-watering scent. She could hear it calling to her, the hot, sweet, savory, sticky blood that coursed through their veins. _Thump. Thump. Thump. _Their hearts beat to a sweet sort of music, Mary's mouth began to water. _Flesh. I can smell it now. _Flesh that was fresh with blood, real blood. _Delicious blood. _Red like the rose in her hand. Mary tensed up, enjoying the sensory overload their presence had created. _I must find them. _She lifted the palette knife in her hand to her mouth, and flicked her tongue out through the stitching, licking the silvery blade that was still coated with Margret's blood, which was now beginning to dry. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste accompanied with the smell. _Delicious. Red._

_Blood._

Her eyes flashed open, and if Ib or Garry had seen them, they might have commented on their dark black color.

_Blood is all that matters anymore._

_I'll make you BLEED, And I'll paint the canvas of my mouth with the redness that pulses through your veins._

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Yellow stood before Mary's renewed painting. It wasn't necessarily the best job they could've done, but it was fixed nonetheless. Yellow brushed her fingers along the smooth canvas that was coated with now clotting dark paint. It stung her fingertips, the ones that had already tasted the familiar bite of acid before. Yellow shivered, withdrawing her hand and wiping it on the floor. The other Ladies were gone, probably back to whatever part of the Gallery they came from. But Yellow had no place, she had lost it, Yellow was dying. Mary had been her closest friend, her comfort, her daughter even. But now, with her 'death' Yellow was slowly fading away, almost like the yellow of Mary's hair, slowly changing, and turning to gray. Yellow welcomed the change, she didn't mind at all. Mary was back, so Yellow didn't mind death. At least Mary was back.

That small piece of comfort was more than enough for her.

She smiled, and let a tear fall to the floor as she touched the canvas once more.

The liquid that spilled down her face burned, and as it splashed to the floor, Yellow nodded sadly.

Acknowledging the black.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Garry heard her before he saw her. The click of one shoe, and the drag of another, injured leg. _Mary. _"Hide." He hissed at Ib, quickly dragging her out-of-the-way. But there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. That had chased themselves into a perfectly inconvenient dead-end.

"What do we do now?" Ib asked, the fear creeping into her voice as she heard the approaching footsteps. Garry calmly stepped in front of her, placing his body subtly between her and the door.

"We wait, for our visitor, and pray for our safety."

Ib wasn't very religious, she had always preferred to skip out on church, but she allowed her eyes to raise to the heavens in that instant.

They had to live.

Not just her, but Garry also. The footsteps slowly, consistently were increasing in volume and decreasing in distance. She was nearby. Garry tensed slightly as his eyes took in the monster that stepped through the door. Ib couldn't see the door around his broad shoulders. "Ib?" He called for her, his voice tense and emotional.

"Yes?"

"I love you." The tone of his voice scared her; so final, and formal, almost like he were actually saying 'goodbye'. She nodded, swallowing the lump of fear that had lodged itself in her throat.

"I love you too."

That was when she saw the monster that was crossing the room towards them.

And Ib screamed.


	16. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: This story contains violent and descriptive gore. Please do not read if you have trouble with graphic writing.**

* * *

**Author Note: **

This chapter and the next one (Chapter 16) will most likely be the most bloody ones in the story, so I thought I'd put a nice disclaimer at the top :) Anyways, I really like the way this story has turned out so far. We're getting closer and closer to the end! I can't believe it! Only 6 more chapters!

Love chu all~ Keep Reading :)

~Scar

**Chapter 15:**

She screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Garry tensed even more than he already was, his hands curling into fists. "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" Ib yelled through the tears that had started to fall down her face. The grotesque creature continued to limp towards them, gargling happily; a long, dark curl of smoke-like paint spilled from between her stitched mouth, which was turned up at the corners in a sort of malevolent smile.

_"Red."_

Ib stared, and her hand went to her mouth as she noticed another demented feature of the twisted being that stood before her._ Her eyes. _Where were they? Ripped right out of their sockets, Ib could see the dark fleshy tissue of her eye socket in full; the white bone of her skull partially showed through on either side. "Mary! Why are you doing this? I'm sorry! IM SO SORRY!" She began to sob furiously again, her body shaking. A petal fell from her rose, wilting and disintegrating into black dust in the air. Garry tensed even more.

_"Red. You have so much red inside you. Beautiful, rich, red; thick, sweet, savory RED." _She took another step closer, the black from her previous message shrouding her face like a black veil. She stumbled slightly, and Ib noticed that she was limping heavily on one leg, which seemed to stop at the ankle. A long trail of her black blood was visible across the deep blue flooring. _What happened to her? _Garry took a step towards Mary, placing himself right between the two girls.

"Mary." He spat the word, his tone more venomous than Ib had ever heard it. His rose slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, and she noticed that the black tainting the petals was spreading, softly, slowly, encasing the blue in a shockingly thick shroud of darkness.

"GARRY!" She screamed through the tears, "YOUR ROSE!" He ignored her.

_"Red. I can SMELL it, I can HEAR it, let me TASTE it." _She hissed and gurgled, a long trail of black spit escaping her mouth and splashing to the floor. It burned the floor where it hit.

"Close your eyes, Ib, and don't open them until I tell you to do so." Ib obeyed fearfully. She had no idea what was going on, and at that point, was just praying for her life.

She had to live.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

White closed the book with a loud thud. She was back in her domain, the White palace. The place of learning, of happy-endings. The other artwork often called it 'Heaven's Gates' after the painting of that title that resided on the eastern wall. It was large, almost a mural in size, with a gaudy golden frame and a thick, white canvas. It depicted a rather ostentatious scene full of soft gold angels and dark black demons, that seemed to be congregating around the pearly white gates of Heaven. White sighed, massaging her temples tiredly. _I'm growing old. So very old. _She looked down at her gloved hands and eased one off of her fingertips, wincing slightly at the pain that ran through her body like crackling electricity. She stared down at her bare skin, the skin that was once so purely paper white. Black. It was spreading like a disease, it had started at the fingertips, tainting her skin with an odd grayish pigment, now it was her entire hand. Gray at the wrist, dark, sickening black at the tips of her fingers. It burned bitterly, sending bursts of pain through her nervous system at fairly regular intervals.

She was dying.

Everything was dying.

The blackness was taking over, and drowning them all in its never-ending tidal wave of silence.

And it would continue to collect victims.

Until there was no one left.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Dark. It was so dark. She was still shaking. The sounds of fighting filled the room. There was an occasional exclamation of pain from Garry, or a gargle of anger from Mary. With each new noise, her heart beat seemed to quicken. Her pulse was racing, almost matching the high intensity of which she was violently shaking. Suddenly, silence. Her heart dropped, before soaring again; beating faster and faster and faster. _Rip._ There was a violent crunching noise, intensifying as though it was getting closer. Ib heard Mary hiss, and Garry exclaim with surprise. But she couldn't see.

She was lost in the dark.

Alone.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Garry stared in shock at the monster that had stumbled into the room. It was so familiar, its demented face greeting Garry with a severe case of déjà vu. "Wh-What is..." Mary had gone deathly still, her face paling with what looked like true fear. The monster stepped forwards slowly. Marry hissed, shrinking in on herself. It took Garry a while to snap out of his daze. He could take advantage of the situation that was put before him, it was time to go. He retreated back to Ib and picked her up, holding her bridal style in his arms. She began to scream, but Garry delicately pressed his hand against her lips, shushing her quietly; she fell silent. Mary was still frozen in place, shivering slightly. He ran for the exit, trying not to draw too much attention to himself and the girl in his arms. Garry took one final look back at the room they were leaving, and Mary's dark, sightless eyes met hers. He slammed the door. There was a sickening crunch of bone, and as Garry took off down the corridor, he continued to hear it ring in his ears._ Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. _An image was stuck in his mind. Her face... Why was it so familiar? Where had he seen it before? He shook it off, continuing to run, faster and faster. _Splash. _A large puddle of paint smeared onto the floor, and Garry hurriedly read the writing.

"Did you forget something important? -G" a small image accompanied the note. It looked like a blue rose.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

The painting bit into her leg, black paint splattered onto the floor, Mary roared with pain and anger. The paint didn't seem to be harming her attacker in any way, he was immune to the poison. She writhed in his grip, but he was persistent. She heard the dry sucking of muscle as it tore out of socket. Black. It splashed her attackers face, he licked at it with his tongue. She squirmed even more, the lubricant of her own blood allowing her to slip out of his grasp. He dropped the limb that lay in his arms, twitching slightly, and scrambled after her. _Just a bit farther... _Her fingers reached for the doorknob desperately. _Yes! _Her hand wrapped around it, slick with her own blood. She turned it, expecting the door to swing open. But it didn't.

It was locked.

She was trapped.

A numbing realization hit.

She felt a firm hand wrap around her ankle, its nails digging into her skin, and dragging her back...


	17. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: This story contains violent and descriptive gore. Please do not read if you have trouble with graphic writing.**

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**Author Note:**

Here's that gory chapter, as promised! :3 Hope you enjoy! (And that I don't scare you away or anything...) Sorry I couldn't write yesterday X3 I was busy for once. (Don't worry, it won't happen again, hopefully)

Love chu all~ Keep Reading :)

~Scar

**Chapter 16:**

The crushing realization made Garry feel weak. He had left it; right in the middle of the floor. The air seemed to escape from his lungs, and he crumpled to the floor, Ib still held tightly in his arms. "No..." he whispered. A tear splashed onto Ib's face, and it took him a while to figure out that it was from his own face that it had fallen. _I'm sorry. _He just sat there for a while, without moving much.

_No. _He stood, his hands balled into fists. _I'm going to live. If not for me, for her. _He glanced down at Ib's placid face, and kissed her forehead lightly. "I love you," he whispered, as he continued down the hallway. The image of a blue rose seemed to follow him the entire way.

_"Forgotten something?"_

_-G._

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

The painting ripped into her foot; sharp, needle-like teeth connecting with the soft grayish skin. Mary hissed and gargled in pain, twisting to face him. She lashed out, her foot contacting his face sharply. She heard a crack, and he flew backwards, his body hitting the wall with a dull thud. Mary looked down at her stump of a leg, trying to stop the gushing torrent of black that was escaping through the ragged pieces of torn muscle with her hands. Her fingers slipped, and she felt a jolt of pain were they touched the split nerve endings that were already sensitive to the air around her. She bit her lip, fighting back a scream. The man was getting up, he seemed to have shattered his shoulder-blade, but was relatively unharmed other than that. Mary tried the door again, she couldn't even get good grip on the knob though, and slipped to the floor once more. She hissed in annoyance, the man was returning, taking deliberate steps towards her, fingers outstretched, and teeth bared in a sickening grimace. Mary shrunk back against the wall, taking a defensive position. He was above her now, she looked up at his mangled face. His fingers reached down, towards her neck, and wrapped around it, nails ripping into the sensitive flesh with deadly precision. Mary writhed beneath his hand, and kicked him sharply again, tilting her head downwards and biting his hand savagely. She could hear a distinct ripping sound as a large piece of his darkish skin was torn from his knuckles, revealing the whitish joints of his fingers and the thick red veins and muscles that were roped tightly around them. He bellowed with rage, his fingers digging deeper, and faster. She hissed venomously, a cloud of putrid black smoke rising from her strained throat, some slipping through the new holes in her neck.

_"I'll kill you too, if that's what it takes." _She bit harder this time, ripping through his papery skin and muscle, she chewed quickly, swallowing all of the sticky, savory flesh in one gulp. He kicked at her, and his foot came in contact with the ragged flesh of her 'amputated' limb. She screamed in agony, clutching at it. The scream seemed to startle him, and his grip loosened on her neck as he stumbled backwards, slipping on the pool of deep black blood that spilled out of her torn leg like a waterfall. She smiled insanely at him, crawling through the black puddle of blood and onto him, her hands pinning him down. _"I'll kill you too." _His hand ripped into hers, nails fighting to find purchase against the slippery surface; he bit her shoulder, tearing the skin there. She ignored the bite, instead leaning forwards and ruthlessly tearing into his neck with her teeth. It was his turn to scream. He began to squirm in her grip, trying desperately to get away. His blood was salty, too salty, but still satisfying. She tore the chunk free, a large dark piece of his neck disappearing into her mouth and down her throat. She sat back and watched as he bled to death, her distorted laughter filled the room the entire time.

And then, she began to eat.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

When Ib woke up, she thought she might be dead. Garry was there, leaning down over her. But something was strange... it was so white, the white hurt her eyes, blinding, pure white. She sighed, groaning slightly and shifting to a sitting position. Garry laughed lightly, pulling her to him and wrapping his arms around her. "So sleeping beauty woke up without a kiss this time?" Ib grumbled something about not being in the mood for jokes. While he held her, she studied the room around them. Her eyes had begun to adjust to the white of the whole place, and it didn't hurt as bad anymore. It was a rather spacious room, with white marble-like flooring and a high white ceiling. The white walls that wrapped around the space were tall and elegant, and the only source of light seemed to be from the large chandelier above, which sent waves of artificial light at them which almost burned her eyes with their intensity. It seemed to be some sort of a library, with bookshelves everywhere, framing the walls nicely, and supporting the high ceiling like pillars.

"Where...?" Ib asked dizzily as she continued to take in the features of the room. There were mannequin heads here, white with cruel black eyes and red lips. They were extremely realistic looking, and seemed to invoke a frightening sense of déjà vu. Her mind reeled, it was rather overwhelming.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Garry murmured, she could feel the coolness of his breath against her neck, it calmed her, and sharpened her senses. She nodded _amazing in a strange sort of way_.

"Is it safe?" She asked.

"For now, it'll have to do. Whenever you're ready we can start exploring, I've only checked out this main room, but I've found a few other doors." Ib nodded, sliding out of his grasp and standing. She yawned and stretched her arms out above her head.

"Alright," she reached down towards him, her fingers wiggling expectantly. His dazzling smile was as white as the room around them, but in a less... foreboding way. The cool touch of his fingers against hers set her heart on fire. She smiled back at him, pulling him to his feet.

"Let's go!" He said, pulling her off in a random direction.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

White drummed her fingers against the desk impatiently. They were off to a slow start, Garry and Ib, her final appointment. She sighed. _They have to make it through the entirety of the White galleries, before entering Heaven's Gates, it will be a while. _At least Black hadn't interfered much, this was White's job, and she didn't appreciate being told how to do it. She was curious as to how Garry would take it. A secret like that... it was enough to make anyone go mad; and Ib, poor Ib. The delusional darling had no idea how much of her life was a lie. So much.

She WOULD be driven to insanity.

And White doubted she would last for long before succumbing to the darkness.

The darkness that spread and infected like some kind of disease.

The black.

She had even started to see it in herself.

Black.


	18. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: This story contains violent and descriptive gore. Please do not read if you have trouble with graphic writing.**

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**Author Note:**

Wahhh I can't believe I'm already writing Chapter 17! This fanfic has gone by really fast! Anyways, here's where I really start to wrap up the story, the last chapters (17, 18, 19, and especially 20) I expect to be a lot longer, in some cases double the normal length. Hope you'll all stick with it 'till the end! :3

Love chu all~ Keep Reading :)

~Scar

**Chapter 17:**

Mary wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her torn dress. The monster's blue blood leaked from the corners of it, dripping from her teeth and into the large puddle that had already formed on the floor. She took the large piece of meat that used to be his leg and sank her teeth into it. _Squelch._The delicious taste of savory, sticky blood filled her mouth. She tore into it, chunks of the slippery, fresh, juicy meat sliding through her fingertips and sticking to the floor. She continued until she had picked most of the flesh from the bone, the whitish substance dyed blue with blood fairly easy to see. That was all that was left of him by now, a few bluish bones with small chunks of meat still clinging honorably. Mary took the skull from the pile, staring into the bloody eye sockets. They had been a nice treat, the eyes. She smiled gruesomely, and started crawling back towards the door. But not before something caught her attention... it almost blended in perfectly with all of the dark blue blood.

A rose.

It was hard to tell what color it was at first, for it seemed to be covered in a blackish substance that just wouldn't come off. Blue.

A Blue rose?

Garry_._ Mary's smile widened.

_Time to play Garry._

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Garry and Ib were still in the enormous white room. Garry led her around the vast space, it seemed to have no end; just white, white, and the occasional splash of color from the books that spanned the tall walls in both directions. "Where was this door you said you saw?" Ib asked, stifling a yawn with her free hand. Her rose was nestled into the fabric of her shirt, tucked away safely.

"There were stairs..." Garry squinted against the glaring lights. Ib nodded, her eyes too beginning to take in the room around them.

"It must be some sort of puzzle," Ib said, "Guertena really loves using those." Garry nodded.

"Yeah, I think you're right." He started to study the walls more closely. "Ib, drop something here, on the floor." Ib nodded, pulling out her worn, and slightly bloody handkerchief. She let it fall from her fingers, hitting the floor silently. "Alright, now lets keep walking." They walked for a while longer, Garry never took his eyes off of the floor; his lips were moving silently, as though he was counting something out.

"Garry why did you have me- what?! How is that possible?!" The couple stopped and stared down at the object that resided on the floor before their feet. "My handkerchief?!" Garry nodded.

"This must be a circular room."

"But the walls don't seem to be curved..."

"Things are never as they seem in _this _art gallery." Ib nodded.

"Okay, so now what?" They looked up at each other.

"We have to find that staircase," Ib reached down for her handkerchief, gingerly taking hold of one of the corners, and pulling it up. The screamed with surprise as a dark black fluid seemed to encase it, weighing it down and causing it to fall from her fingertips.

"IB!" Garry yelled, taking her hand and studying it in detail. "You don't look hurt, are you hurt?! Please tell me you're okay."

"Yes, yes I'm fine. Geez, you're a little overprotective to be a good boyfriend don't you think?" Garry blushed slightly, and Ib laughed. "No, but really," she asked once her fit of giggling had died down. "What was that?"

"I'm not sure..." They shrugged it off, and took off down the corridor once more. Neither of them noticing that behind them, the room was changing. The walls now dripped with black paint, and the books all seemed to be rotting and falling off of their shelves. One of the large bookcases ripped free from the wall with an ear-splitting screech of metal on metal. A loud thud seemed to reverberate from the floor, filling the entire gallery with its noise.

It was falling apart...

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Mary touched her fingers to the waxy petals of the rose, and tugged. Nothing happened at first, the rose stayed full and luscious, and Mary's fingers stayed pinched around the small piece; but then... Mary screamed, she screamed as loud as she could and dropped the rose to the floor. It was glowing, wrapped in a dark sort-of aura that echoed the blackness of the night with an eerie perfectness. Mary's fingers were gone. Not just burnt, cut, or ripped, but literally gone. She hissed and spat, a long stream of spittle dropping from her roughly sewn lips and splashing to the floor. The blue of her most recent victims blood seemed to lighten the dark color of her own blood slightly. She examined her fingers again, or rather, the place they had once been. It looked as though they had dissolved into nothingness, ripped into pieces smaller than individual grains of sand. She scrambled backwards, slipping in the pool of mixed blood and ending up face down in it. The saltiness stung her raw eye sockets and torn leg. _I need to get out of here. _She began to crawl away. _I need to live, so I may feed on the sweet blood of her. Ib. _The thought sent energy coursing through her veins, and brought a smile to her face. As her fingers wrapped around the doorknob, she envisioned the moment she would sink her teeth into that soft porcelain skin. And her smile only grew as the door swung open slowly.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Ib and Garry continued, hand in hand, down the corridor. There seemed to be no other way to go, no way but onwards, into the white haze. Ib wondered how long this circle must be, they had been walking for a while by now. Ib was studying a bookshelf when she first heard it, shattering, and crunching. Almost like something fragile had crashed against the floor, like glass or pottery or... Ib turned slowly. She wouldn't have been able to make it out, if not for the bright red blood that gushed from the large fissure on its skull. A mannequin head. Even the blood was realistic, just the right shade of crimson... Garry snapped her out of the disturbing train of thought.

"Ib..." He was looking in the same direction as her.

"How did it fall?!" She asked him, staring at the white surface of its face. Garry squeezed her hind tighter in his, and tugged her off, away from the mannequin.

"We have to hurry." The urgency in his voice was so genuine, it inspired fear in her own heart.

"Garry? What's going on?"

His eyes met hers, and she noticed the tears that had filled them.

"You just have to trust me for now."

_Trust me?_

Ib nodded.

But he just shook his head, and kept on running.

The tears didn't stop.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*/\

Yellow was dying. Blue, Green, and Red tended to her sick body as she lay, wheezing, on the floor. Her skin was mottled, gray and black, her hair was also darker now, much darker. _The Black... _She had tried to fight it for so long. But now, as she lay there, in the hands of death, she didn't seem as worried. She even smiled.

Mary.

Lady Mary was alive, and that was all that mattered to her. Green watched hopelessly as the black spread and darkened on Yellow's skin. Yellow hacked slightly, seeming to choke on something for a bit. Before silence.

Her lips still formed a smile.

Even as the black encroached upon them, they remained in the position of happiness. Defiantly bringing light to the pure night that had begun to descend upon the gallery.

But within a few seconds, the light and dark were gone.

And with them, Yellow's body, frame and all.


	19. Chapter 18

******Disclaimer: This story contains violent and descriptive gore. Please do not read if you have trouble with graphic writing.**

* * *

**Author Note: **

Woohoo! On to Chapter 18! This will be great :P Anyways, this is really starting to get into the whole plot exposition. (I apologize for wounding any of your feels X3) Also, the disclaimer is here to stay ^^ (I think it looks cute :P) thought I'd just play it safe for these last few (LONG) chapters :D

Love chu all~ Keep Reading :)

~Scar

**Chapter 18:**

Garry didn't stop running. His heartbeat was erratic, his body trembled slightly, and the dark black tears that fell from his eyes hit the white floor like a rainstorm. _I started to remember. Why did I start to remember?_ Remembering things was NOT something Garry enjoyed. It never meant anything good for anyone, himself included. Somewhere in his mind, a memory began to play slowly, like some kind of hyper-realistic movie...

_"Are you sure Garry?" She demanded in an exhalation of bluish smoke-like paint._

_"Yes. Mary, you are to do exactly as I asked," his own voice said, as his fingers wrapped around hers. "It's all going to be okay."_

_"Don't make me Garry," she whimpered, tears forming in her eyes._

_"It's the only way-"_

It cut of there, starting to fast forward, to a supposedly later time...

_"Are you ready?" He asked her, the girl with the flaming yellow hair._

_"Yes," she said, but she didn't sound so sure, her voice was weak, as though she was holding back her true emotion._

_"Take it," he handed her a blue rose. _His_ blue rose. "And do what I told you to when I tell you to do it. You got that?" She nodded grimly, wiping away a tear before it had the chance to fully form._

_"But Daddy... I don't want to hurt you."_

_"Don't call me that when there's a chance that Ib is around!" He scolded her._

_Daddy?! _Daddy as in...

"Garry! What are you doing, hurry up!" Ib was now in the lead, semi-dragging Garry behind her. Garry had stopped in the middle of the floor though. His hand flew to his mouth, he now noticed how badly he was shaking.

_I don't want to hurt you._

That was when he REALLY lost it. His breathing was fast, tears still running down his face, he sunk to his knees, his hands on either side of his head, and started screaming.

_"Are you ready?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Take it. And do what I told you to do when I tell you to do it, you got that?"_

_"But Daddy... I don't want to hurt you."_

_"Don't call me that when there's a chance that Ib is around!"_

He closed his eyes, allowing the wracking sobs to take over.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Mary continued down the hallway, her useless leg only seeming to slow her down by slipping on the blood that was generously spilling from her missing one. She hissed again, the progress was slow, and she had far to go. They had to be in the White galleries by now. She had to get to them before they reached Heaven's Gates, or her whole plan would fall apart. She licked her teeth, savoring the lingering taste of blood. _I would never allow that to happen, s_he thought. She would get her prize.

Father had promised her that much.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

"GARRY?!" Ib turned back, her face filled with worry, "Garry?! Garry what's going on?!" She rushed back, kneeling in front of him. He was shaking profusely, and his tears were still constantly splashing the white marble. She could hear the hiss of the acid-like substance.

"No! No STAY AWAY FROM ME!" He screamed hysterically. Ib slid backwards a few inches. "Don't! DON'T COME NEAR ME!"

"Garry I-"

"NO! Don't... just don't..." He stopped talking then. Ib was unsure what to do.

"Garry..." She reached out for him, her fingers just brushing his hands (which were covering his eyes).

"Didn't I tell you... to STAY AWAY FROM ME?!" _SMACK. _Pain flared through Ib's hand. _Garry... _Through the holes in his fingers, she got her first good look at his eyes.

They were pure black.

For the first time in her life, Ib feared the man that sat before her.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

_"Garry, do you really think this is a good idea?" Mary asked in an exhalation of swirling light orange. _This seemed to be a continuation of the previous memory.

_"It's the only way. Don't you see?"_

_"But your rose, even if you'll still live, loosing all of your petals at the same time will be a major blow to your overall health."_

_"Mary." He gripped her shoulders with his hands. "You have to trust me on this." She looked up at him, her round eyes filled with confusion and fear._

_"Alright, father." _The loud smack of his own hand against Ib's ripped him out of his daydream. He glanced open mouthed at his fingers, and then looked to her face. _Ib..._

"Ib- I- I don't know what-" His speaking skills faltered, and he let them sink into a dark and eerie silence. She slowly crawled backwards, treating him like some kind of foul beast that was preparing to pounce.

"Garry... we have to go now." he just continued to stare at her, in utter horror of what he had just done, all previous memories forgotten. She turned away, holding her wounded hand to her chest.

Ib didn't say anything else as she walked off.

Garry didn't say anything either.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

_Excellent. _White thought as she monitored her guests progress through the White galleries._ Getting closer. _Their pacing was still obnoxiously slow, but it would have to do for now. White started slightly as the loud ringing of a phone filled the room. She hissed at it angrily, picking it up with one quick swipe of her hand.

_"WHAT IS IT?!"_ She breathed directly into the phone, yelling loud enough that the color would be able to travel through the cord and reach the other side. It was hard to interpret the message she got, blue kept leaking into it and scrambling the 'painting'. _"A little bit more clearly please?"_ She asked politely, and waited for the message to be repeated. _Clunk. _The phone hit the floor, breaking its old plastic shell, and exposing the wires underneath.

_"Yellow is... dead?"_

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Ib was still in shock. The slap she had received from Garry hadn't hurt much, but it sure had woken her up from the dream she seemed to be living in. _Garry and I are NOT together. And we never will be. _She straightened her clothing, a nervous habit she had picked up in high school. _High school. _It seemed like another world; one so far away that she didn't even bother to think about it. Her footsteps were alone as she continued down the hallway. She didn't want to show it, but she was extremely worried about him. Garry. What had happened to him? _He just sort of... broke down; snapped. _She wondered if he had ACTUALLY gone mental. Shaking her head, she continued forwards, until she reached a staircase.

It was white and marble, of the same kind as the floor and elegantly sloped upwards in a long, lazy spiral. _He'll catch up, once he cools off. There's only one way to go right? _She placed her foot onto the first step and began to ascend.

About 30 yards behind her, Garry stood.

And headed in the opposite direction.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Mary entered the first white room; or at least, it had once been white. Mary was rather surprised to find it in this condition, with black paint tarnishing the walls and books strewn everywhere. She hissed in pain as her fingers came in contact with a piece of white marble. It seemed to be her new weakness; white. She shook off the thought, and pressed forwards, careful to avoid the rare splashes of light. The gallery was empty, no signs of life (actual or created by Guertena) in any direction. It was extremely off-putting, making Mary feel wary. She could her herself crawling, the smack of her foot as it repeatedly slipped in her black blood echoed off of the empty walls darkly. Her fingers contacted something, causing the front of her body to slip and pitch forwards, she gargled a few words of bitter discontempt and looked down at it. _A handkerchief? _It was covered in a black, sticky substance that looked remarkably like her own blood. Mary studied it with more interest. _I. B. _The two letters were stitched into one of the corners of the small piece of once white cloth with red string. Mary turned it in her fingertips once more, before pocketing it.

She continued down the corridor as though nothing had happened; even though inside, she was jumping up and down with elation at her finding.


	20. Chapter 19

******Disclaimer: This story contains violent and descriptive gore. Please do not read if you have trouble with graphic writing.**

* * *

**Author Note: **WARNING. WARNING WARNING WARNING. Here is where I really start to tear into the feels, keep in mind that this is a tragedy. Also, please do not give me any hate for my ideas, I know they're kind of rough, but I didn't spend very long coming up with a real plotline until recently so I couldn't foreshadow very well earlier. ON TO CH. 19! Have fun with it :P I think I might start writing 20 right after I finish this one, I'm really into the story right now!

Love chu all~ Keep Reading :)

~Scar

**Chapter 19:**

Mary was getting close now, ever so close. She could practically taste Ib's presence in the room she had just entered into, but the girl was nowhere in sight. She hissed, tasting the air with her tongue, much like a cat. The room had an acidic, sharp taste, she assumed that it came from the dark black paint that was trickling down the walls. But then... There! There it was! The soft, sweet scent of rose petals touched her tongue, and set her into attack mode. She crawled forwards warily, careful not to alert her target of her presence. _This is it, the final battle. For her flesh and bones. _Mary smiled, and increased her pace slightly._ This is it._

**This was the end.**

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Garry stumbled forwards mindlessly. His memories were returning, all of them. His mind was beginning to fall apart, and he was inching closer and closer to the edge of the cliff, soon he would lose it all. _Isamina. _The name echoed throughout each of his memories. Whispered, like it was some kind of secret. Who was she? He couldn't place a face to the name. _Isamina. _He shook his head, continuing forwards. The memories were persistent though, nagging him from every corner of his brain.

_ Garry nodded to the girl with the yellow hair as he fell. She nodded back, her fingers wrapping tighter around the small object clasped tightly in her fingers. It looked like a rose, a red one, that matched the color of Ib's eyes. "Are you sure?" She mouthed to him, not daring to ruin the plan with spoken words._

_"Would I have taken her rose if I wasn't sure?" Mary shook her head._

_"I think you're crazy," she grumbled as she began to pluck off the petals of the delicate flower. The Garry in the memory ignored her actions. "This better work." That was when they hit the floor. Ib was still slightly above them, still falling, which gave Mary enough time to hide, and Garry enough time to appear affected by the fall. He laid down on the floor, and closed his eyes..._

"Why?!" He screamed, smashing his fist into a wall. Black paint dripped onto his hand, but he ignored the pain. "WHY NOW?!" He continued forwards, his hands running along the walls, he was past ignoring it by now; he welcomed the pain.

_It took her a while to find him, once she did, the plan began. Mary and Margret handled their side of the deal, while he took care of his. It worked perfectly. She believed them._

"NO!" He punched the wall again. _Garry. Calm down, find Ib and leave. You will be able to leave. _He took a few deep breaths, and closed his eyes; trying to calm down, and not think about his memories.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

She had finally reached the top, Ib sighed as she saw the three doors in front of her. All white, and all seemingly identical. Choices, oh how she hated them. She looked over her shoulder, back the way she had come; she was beginning to get more and more worried. Surely he should've caught up by now? She took a deep breath, and turned her attention back to the three doors. The upper level of the library was open and airy, thought he balcony itself was rather small, the only furniture up here was a small ornate vase that rested atop a dark wooden side table, and a desk. Atop the desk was a small, leather-bound diary that looked rather fancy. She sat in the desk chair, and opened the small clasp with her fingers, running them along the supple surface. The script was long and flowing, hard to read in some places, and impossible to read in others. Ib squinted, trying to make out the words.

_Day 1._

_I'm alone. How long have I been alone? Ever since her death, it's as though my own gallery is trapping me, the paintings seem to loom closer every day. Every MINUTE. They're getting closer, faster and faster. What do I do? How to escape if not through writing? The gallery has swallowed me whole. I am consumed by a raging fear of my own creations as I fall further and further into the depths of my own twisted mind._

_-G_

It seemed to be some kind of diary, logging Guertana's travels through his own gallery. _Maybe there's something on which door to choose..._

_Day 2._

_I'm starting to like this place more, the decorations are falling into place. I hope my visitor arrives soon._

_-G_

The eerie message chilled her to the bone. _Visitor?_ She skipped ahead a few pages, one grabbing her attention quickly.

_Day 47._

_The girl has arrived, the young one with the bright red eyes. She loves to explore. I like the color red. It complements blue._

_Her name is Ib; a__nd she's here to stay._

_Maybe her and Mary will become friends, I know my daughter could do with a playmate. Those dolls never really seemed to fit her tastes._

_-G_

In the bottom right corner of the page, a dark reddish liquid stained the thick parchment. It was sticky.

_Day 64._

_I've met up with her, she doesn't seem to suspect a thing. I'm glad, it's better this way. The future me will actually believe his own story, and this character she has grown to love will live on._

_I guess I just was never enough for her._

_My lovely Isamina Bourgie._

_-G_

The script changed from that entry on, taking a quicker, more short-handed style on.

_Day 83._

_I saw a monster today. A horrible monster with a deformed face all purple and black; even the dolls were scared of him, I think he ate them. There was a room, one that was so beautiful I almost got fatally distracted, with stars on all of the walls and various heavenly bodies dangling from strings from above. The colors blended perfectly. Guertana really likes the color blue or so I have noticed, he also tends to use a lot of purple. I lost an arm, the monster ate it; ripped the flesh from the bone like it was a chicken leg. When I placed my rose in the water, the arm re-grew, it seems fully functioning. I'm lost. Hopelessly lost. I almost wish I had brought Margret with me, she would be almost welcome company. I don't like being alone. I miss Ib, I don't know where she's run off to. Hopelessly lost, and alone. It's terrible really- _

It cut off there. _Ib? Guertena was talking about me? This style of writing seems almost... familiar somehow..._ Ib shook it off, turning to the last entry in the small book.

_Day 100._

_I'm G._

_I figured it out._

_And now, I'm going to die._

Ib studied the writing, there was something strange about this page. _Scratch, scratch. _She stared down at the paper, and gasped a little as she saw the new writing that had appeared.

_I'm sorry Ib._

She heard a door unlock behind her.

_-G _There was a small picture of a rose drawn next to the letter.

It almost looked blue.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Garry closed the diary, wiping away a tear. **This was it.** The end had come. He actually smiled at himself. His stupidity was overwhelming. It had taken him so long to figure it out, but now it made so much sense. _I'm Guertena. I have always loved the color blue, and purple too, so it made me happy to see so much use of the two colors. _But that wasn't all of the evidence. _I couldn't remember how I got here. I told her I could, but I never really knew. And the paintings, I could always understand their messages, their unspoken conversations._

And the final, most devastating clue of all.

'Garry' was actually a nickname. Garry, Guertena...

It had all crashed down on him like a tsunami. But now the relief and tranquility of the truth filled him with happiness. He actually laughed out loud. _It all makes sense!_

He stood, laughing insanely. _These past 100 days... how many of them were a lie? Am I even alive right now? Is Ib real? Am I real? _He shook his head. He didn't care.

**This was the end.**

He walked to the large white door and opened it without hesitation, breathing in the surroundings of the beautiful room he had just stepped into. His eyes flickered to the large mural-like painting on the wall.

Heaven's Gates.


	21. Chapter 20

******Disclaimer: This story contains violent and descriptive gore. Please do not read if you have trouble with graphic writing.**

* * *

**Author Note (1999 words!)**

It's finally here! The final chapter. (I don't know whether I should laugh or cry...) I appologize for all the feels that have been harmed... it hurt my own as well ;-; Hope to see you all in the Epilogue, it will explain this whole jumble of a plot! (The poem was my own work, just btw...)

Love chu all~ Keep Reading :)

~Scar

**Chapter 20:**

The room Ib had stepped into was large and white, just like the one she had stepped out of. She seemed to be on the uppermost balcony of the tall structure, and was left looking down, the room was pristine, polished, and astonishingly WHITE. It hurt her eyes. A painting really caught her attention after a few minutes of looking around, it was HUGE, almost taking up an entire wall with it's embroidered canvas. She strained to make out the title, something Gates? It was rather beautiful. The room seemed to be deserted, except for a long reception desk, behind which was a woman dressed in the purest of white, almost camouflaged against the walls of the same pigment. She seemed to be talking to someone intently. Ib took a small step, her heel clicking down on the marble of the first step on the staircase; she had to get down there, to find out what the hell was going on. _Who is she? The woman in white? She seems almost… familiar._ She scurried downwards, her feet reaching the lower level fairly quickly. The two individuals both looked up instantaneously, directly at her.

"Garry?!" Ib questioned in shock, he looked the same as ever, long purplish hair, dark black tattered trenchcoat and all.

"Ib." Garry smiled, but shortly afterwards his face fell into a grim sort of severity, as though he were a doctor about to diagnose her with cancer or something. She took a weary step backwards. _Is he thinking about hitting me again?_

The woman in the white outfit turned to Garry, and asked him plainly, "Well? Are you planning to tell her?" Ib was confused, and a little scared. She took another step backwards.

Garry and the white woman fell into what seemed to be deep conversation. He shook his head a few times, and she hissed at each. Ib took advantage of the convenient situation, looking around for a way out. She stepped to the right, into partial shadow, preparing to run for the door. This shadow was strange though… it seemed too dark, as though blackness had sucked all color but its own from even the air particles.

Garry looked up, his face filling with shock and terror. "IB NO! DON'T-!" But it was too late. Sharp teeth pierced the skin of her neck, ripping into her jugular vein ferociously. Ib screamed, she screamed loud and long, her vocal chords straining in her throat. The teeth were persistent, crushing further and further in, she felt a tongue lap at the blood that was pouring from her neck wound like a waterfall; but then the crushing bite was over, and she fell to the floor in a pool of her own blood.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Mary licked her lips, savoring the sticky red blood that now sloshed down her throat and inside her stomach. It had tasted so good. The perfect balance of salty and sweet, harmonious. She laughed at the dying woman. She had been so stupid, actually trying to escape from the ones who would have saved her. She leaned over the bloody, raw, piece of flesh and licked at it, biting the ragged muscle and tearing it away viciously. It was so good. The flesh was squishy and slippery, and Mary savored the texture between her teeth. She leaned back and sighed with satisfaction, her eyes catching a short glimpse of Garry's face…

And in that moment, she knew she was dead.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

The waves of anguish that ripped through Garry's body were worse than any pain he had ever felt before in his life. The first minute or so he had just been paralyzed, frozen in terror and disbelief. It was almost too sudden. Mary had sprung from the shadows and bit her, and that was it. Garry could see the puddle of color that spread in every direction from her body. Crimson, like her eyes and her rose. Crimson like her blood.

It didn't matter if she wasn't real.

Nothing White could say would change his mind.

He had loved her, with a passion best not described in words.

And she had been killed.

For the first time in his life, Garry was really ready to kill another creature in cold blood. Mary. Would. Die. The soul-ripping pain boiled and burned and turned into something new altogether. Hatred. Hatred in its most pure, wretched form. He ran at her, not stopping even at the request of White. Mary would die. He screamed, throwing himself at the twisted, demented figure that crawled around on the floor like a maggot. She was worse than a maggot. He stuck his fingers into a large cut that ran half the length of her body, one that had been badly stitched together, and he pulled. She ripped apart like paper, black blood pouring across his fingers and arms and splashing onto his face and legs.

He couldn't even feel it.

_Rip._ Mary was screaming. Mary was dying. Garry didn't stop. She was in four pieces by now, and he didn't stop at that. His fingers slipped around on her raw slippery muscle, and scratched themselves on her broken, exposed bone.

He didn't even care.

"You. BITCH!" And with that, he dropped his lighter on the remains, and watched her burn. With no emotion on his face but pure hatred.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Ib watched silently.

Not really daring to speak out, not really knowing if she could with her neck how it was. She watched the Garry she knew and loved wither and rot in front of her; she watched him fall off the edge. Surprisingly, she was okay with that. She was okay with everything. This was it, the end; she thought back over her life, and reflected to herself that it was a good one. She closed her eyes and listened to Mary's screams, and the never ending tearing sounds.

And she found it almost...

Peaceful.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Garry watched the flames for a few seconds more, before turning his attention to Ib. She was dying, extremely close to it. Garry plucked her rose from the edge of the large, roaring fire, and placed it lightly on her chest. It was covered in black. "Ib," he murmured, sitting next to her and resting her head in his lap gently, careful to avoid the wound. "It's okay, it's all going to be fine."

Ib's eyes opened slowly, and she stared up at him. When she said the words, she whispered them so softly that even Garry who was less than one foot away had to strain to hear them. "Tell me a story."

Garry smiled sadly, his eyes filling with tears. "How about a poem instead?"

Ib laughed lightly, the sound caught in her throat. "Garry... I'm scared." He kissed her forehead lightly. "I don't want to die. Not yet-"

Garry silenced her with a soft kiss, he could taste her blood, salty and sweet, with a light rosy texture to it. "It's okay. You're okay." And even though all four of those words were extremely false, they did wonders to calm her down.

"Tell me your poem." She wheezed, coughing up a small amount of blood, but still managing to grip his hand with hers.

"It's called Petals," Garry cleared his throat, pushing down the sobs that had started to force their way out of his mouth,

_"The falling twisting petals. _

_They glide through the air._

_Softly falling settling, always settling._

_Always wanting more._

_"The dripping red blood,_

_it seeps through the petals._

_Showing them what it means to settle._

_What it means, to be gone._

_"The falling twisting petals,_

_Innocent in their weakness._

_Always. Always and forever, settling._

_Because they believed they deserved something more._

_"The dripping red blood._

_It tears with its agony._

_Telling of its pain, it's anguish, it's longing..._

_The songs it sings, the stories it tells, and whispers, and dances to..._

_"The falling twisting petals._

_They hear the songs._

_They watch the dances; they SEE the story._

_Their innocence falters as they learn, but they keep falling. Falling, and falling._

_"Always turning, never faltering-" _

Garry choked back a sob as Ib's eyelids fluttered closed, and her grip relaxed on his fingers, her breathing was ragged and slow.

_ "Until they reach the floor, until they themselves settle._

_"Settling. Because it's all they ever knew of._

_"Settling. Because it's all they have left-"_

Ib exhaled slowly, and her chest stopped the rise and fall of life.

_"Always settling."_

Garry lightly brushed the hair out of her face and kissed her forehead once more.

"I love you," he murmured, and stayed there, with her dead body in his arms for a while. The tears spilling over his face, the tears that hit the floor and hissed against the wood with their dark color. "White," He looked up at her, "Tell me how to kill myself."

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Mary was in unbelievable pain. As every fiber of her body was shredded into microscopic pieces by the burning flames, she was also losing her mind. It was worse than any torture, or depression, sickness, or sadness. She screamed. Oh you'd better believe she screamed. Loud, terrible, blood-curdling screams that would've made even Garry feel sorry for her.

The fire ate away. Slowly ripping her very soul from her mind and body.

She closed her eyes, and waited for the pain to subside. Welcoming death, with open arms.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Garry looked down at the blue rose in his hands. It made sense. It all made sense. Too much sense, he thought as he pulled the first petal loose. But none of it mattered. None of ANYTHING mattered. Ib was dead. And that was it. Garry tore out another petal, letting it fall. The falling, twisting petals... he tore out another few. They glide through the air. He could feel his energy and life being sucked away, leaving a blank canvas. Softly falling settling. The first few hit the floor. Settling, always settling. A few more showered down. He closed his settling.

The rose fell from his fingers and to the floor; not a single petal left on the stem.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

White bent over the dead couple and retrieved Garry's rose, placing the stem on his chest. She heard the rest of the gallery breaking and disappearing in the distance, the iron rivets groaning with pressure, the lights shattering into billions of fragments.

"Too late," A garbled voice mumbled. White wasn't at all surprised to see Black at the opposite side of the room. She agreed with a silent nod. It _was_ too late. She crawled over to black, and rest a hand tenderly on her shoulder.

"Sister?"

"Yes, we should do it together." They both nodded thoughtfully, making their way over to the corpse of their creator.

"Guertena Weiss Rose. I bid you farewell, from the land of the living," Black grumbled.

"And may you live on, for many years, through history and through Heaven."

Then the color took over. White turned to ash fairly quickly, she was already pretty gray, the blackness made short work of corrupting her skin. With one final sigh, she disappeared, and drifted away.

Black listened to the shuddering metal, the smashing glass, the screams of fellow Guertena creatures; and she couldn't help but smile.

Because in the end, Black had won.


	22. Epilogue

**Author Note:**

The final part! I really hope you guys enjoyed reading this. This epilogue is really more of an explanation, kind of filling in all the holes I left in the plot (Tee hee!). Hope it makes more sense... A warm thanks to all of you who stuck with me 'till the end! I hope to see you in the final author note for "Forgotten Portrait." I'm really sad it's over D: (I didn't need a disclaimer this time, YAY!)

Also, I hope this ending satisfies all readers alike, whether you're an Ib fan, a Garry fan, or a Mary fan.

Love chu all~ Keep Reading :)

~Scar

**Epilogue:**

"**Guertena Weiss Rose, a short summary of life, and death.** We can all agree that Guertena was a strange man, with an even stranger personality and painting style," The plaque read. Syam read the letters with a very low amount of interest. "Contrary to popular belief, the name 'Guertena' is actually the painters first name, though he rarely used it; preferring instead to be called 'Garry'. Why Guertena refused to use his last name is still a mystery, although the reason is believed to be the fact that it dredged up too many painful memories. It is also a mystery as to why he used his middle name, Weiss, as a 'pen name'" She had been dragged to the art museum after days and DAYS of pestering from her parents, and wasn't really all that thrilled to be there. Somewhere in the previous room, a tour guide blabbed on and on, spewing useless facts about Guertena left and right, to anyone who would take the time to listen. Syam blocked it out, turning up the volume on her Ipod until she was left in her own world. Her eyes lazily drifted back to the plaque. "A man whose life centered around insanity and depression was bound to end up as his did, filled with hallucination and suffering. Guertena left us a fairly detailed diary in the days leading up to his death, one that can be read in full..." Syam yawned. This stuff was really made to be boring wasn't it? But it wasn't like she had anything else to do...

The plaque continued on to describe the events that had led up to his mental illness. "When Guertena was about 20, he proposed to a young woman named Isamina Bourgie, a smart girl who aspired to become a professional lawyer and take the world by storm. Guertena was head-over-heels for her. They married, and Isamina saved up for law school. Guertena originally was headed in the direction of science and doctoral medicine." Syam was already bored. _Let's skip a bit here... _"Followed by their untimely death a few years before his own." Syam reread the previous few sentences. "Guertena was extremely excited to become a parent, and Isamina felt the same way. They both saved their money to be able to provide for the young, unborn child." Syam nodded to herself, and continued on. "They had decided to call their child Mary, after Isamina's mother." _I never really understood why parents did that. It's kind of weird really. _"Once Mary and Isamina were declared dead after their fatal car accident, Guertena really lost it. He began to paint, and to write short stories, dropping out of his prior field and becoming a full time artist. He only ever kept one small leather-bound diary, which he began to write the day after his family's deaths. It starts out with:

_"Day 1. _

_"I'm alone. How long have I been alone? Ever since her death, it's as though my own gallery is trapping me, the paintings seem to loom closer every day. Every MINUTE. They're getting closer, faster and faster. What do I do? How to escape if not through writing? The gallery has swallowed me whole. I am consumed by a raging fear of my own creations as I fall further and further into the depths of my own twisted mind._

_"-G_

"He seems to deteriorate even further from there, slowly becoming more and more insane with each stroke of the pen. On Day 47, Guertena writes this:

_"The girl has arrived, the young one with the bright red eyes. She loves to explore. I like the color red. It complements blue._

_"Her name is Ib; a__nd she's here to stay._

_"Maybe her and Mary will become friends, I know my daughter could do with a playmate. Those dolls never really seemed to fit her tastes._

_"-G_

"In it are direct references to his late wife and child, confirming his deteriorating mind to have fallen off of the edge. In his diary, Guertena refers to Isamina by her initials, I.B., though doesn't change the name of his young daughter Mary..."

_Woah, this guy must've been really messed up. _Syam thought as she glanced around the gallery once more. It was hard to believe that Guertena's insanity had allowed him so much creativity, his art was really beautiful.

"He began to lose his identity, along with his insanity. Forgetting who he was and where he was. On the last dated page of his diary, 100 days after the death of his wife and child, he finally acknowledged the fact that he was insane, in his entry:

_"Day 100._

_"I'm G._

_"I figured it out._

_"And now, I'm going to die._

_"I'm sorry Ib._

_"-G._

"He committed suicide approximately an hour afterwards." Syam nodded sadly, and walked around the rest of the gallery, a newfound respect for the late painter filling her heart as she took in the art he spent so long artfully crafting. There were three that really stood out to her, one titled "Forgotten Portrait," his only self portrait, "The Lady in Red" supposedly a representation of Isamina herself, and "Mary."

The last canvas was covered in black.

* * *

**END:** **The truth.**


	23. Final Author Note, Closing

**Author Note:**

I would like to thank everyone who has taken the time and effort to read my story so far, I take my writing very seriously (a little too seriously at times...) and so I appreciate any and every comment, view, favorite, or follow I get to this story. If I can get past the negative reviews, I even appreciate _them_! This story has been a nice learning tool, I really feel like a better author after finishing it. I hope to see you all in the next one I write (If I can come up with something...) Requests are always welcome! Ib related or otherwise! I might write some short Ib stories (fluff and such) if there is any demand. I think I'll move on now, back to the story I used to be writing _Seeing is Believing. _

I really don't think you all understand how much I love you for reading this. It makes me so happy to share my work with others!

(Leave any requests, questions, or comments in the review section, or shoot me a PM! Thank you all~)

**LOVE chu all~ Hope to see you next time :)**

**~Scar.**


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